Where the Green Briers Twine--Part 2
by Pat Storm
Summary: Continued


**Chapter 34**

The rain was still coming down in torrents when Thomas left for town, but the lightning had moved southeast, followed by the reverberating thunder. It still echoed and rolled over the open range with no sign of the wet weather moving on any too quickly. The sky was various shades of gray from horizon to horizon.

Jonesy was working in the kitchen, washing the breakfast dishes when a knock came to the front door. Jess had been struggling, trying to pull his boot on his freshly soaked foot. Putting it down, he limped to the door to find Dragos standing on the porch, thoroughly drenched.

Stunned to see the gypsy man, Jess was almost knocked speechless. When he found his tongue, he invited the waterlogged man into the house. "What are you doing out in this weather," Jess asked. "Take off your slicker. Jonesy, we could use some hot coffee in here," the Texan called out to Jonesy as he helped the gypsy remove his saturated slicker. It had gone far past shedding water and was weighted with what rain had soaked into the oiled cloth. After hanging it on a hook, Jess escorted Dragos to the table and motioned him to sit down.

"How is Slim doing today," Dragos asked, as he took a seat.

"Not too good," Jess responded as Jonesy silently entered the room carrying the coffee pot and some cups, setting them down on the table as he nodded to Dragos before leaving the room. "He didn't remember that he was hurt this mornin' 'n tried to get outta bed. He fell 'n hurt his leg again. Thomas is on his way to town to get the doc. But what are you doin' out here?"

"I wanted to tell you that my brothers and I rounded up those lose cattle this morning."

"In this storm?" Jess asked, with a raise of his eyebrows, astonished that anyone would be out doing much of anything that wasn't necessary in such a raging storm. "Weren't you worried that they'd stampede with all the thunder 'n lightnin'?"

"We felt bad about everything that happened, all of it being because of us breaking down the on the ranch. We owe you and Slim very much. It was not so bad. We moved them slowly and carefully," he laughed, "Until the hail started. We had to find cover. We were lucky that there was a rock ledge nearby."

"Yeah, the one where I think the shot came from that stampeded the herd. I wish I coulda gotten up there to find tracks 'n find out who caused all of this," Jess said with a frown as he peered at Dragos through the steam that billowed from his raised cup.

"If there were any tracks, they are washed away now, I am sure," Dragos responded. "Water is running off that ridge and down the rocks like small waterfalls. It is a drenching rain for sure." After a short pause, the gypsy man asked, "Any word on young Andy?"

"No." Jess said, lowering his head, as well as his voice. "I was gonna head out first thing this mornin' but with the storm 'n Slim fallin', I haven't gotten a chance yet. I can't believe you rounded up the cattle for us. Thank you, Dragos. One less thing to worry about."

"I am sorry all this had to happen. It was the least we could do. We found them all together not far from where we left them. I cannot say for sure that they are all there. Maybe some strays, but those that were together are now in the pasture where we were taking them. My brothers are fixing the fence, as we speak, and will be here shortly. We can't work on the wagon today, so we wanted to help out here at the ranch. Perhaps with the stagecoaches, if you wish."

"Oh, Dragos, yes, I wish," Jess said with a smile, reaching out to put his hand on the gypsy man's wrist to show his appreciation.

"Jonesy," Jess called toward the kitchen and Jonesy poked his head around the corner. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what? I can't hear much of anything but the rain on the roof," Jonesy grumbed, as he wiped his hands on a towel and walked toward the table.

"Dragos and his brothers will be helping with the stage today. It's too wet to work on their wagon. They rounded up the cattle that we let run when Slim got hurt and they put them in the pasture for us, doing all that out in this storm," Jess said with a proud grin.

Finding it hard to say thank you, since it was all the fault of the gypsies that all of this trouble had come upon them, Jonesy forced out a very dry thank you. He offered to freshen Dragos' coffee to cover his frustration with being put in the position of expressing his begrudged gratitude.

Excusing himself, Jonesy found his way back into the kitchen and made himself busy so he didn't have to socialize with Dragos or his brothers, when they arrived a short time later. He was glad the coffee pot was full of fresh coffee and that he wasn't called upon to join them at the table as they talked with Jess.

The rain continued with no sign of letting up when Doc Riley arrived to reset Slim's leg. With the help of the laudanum this time, resetting Slim's leg went rather smoothly with little discomfort to the injured rancher.

At Jonesy's insistence, Jess allowed the doctor to examine his foot. "It looks better than it did yesterday. No more seeping from the puncture. That's good, but it's still a lot redder than I'd like to see it. There's still some infection brewing in there." Pressing and probing at the wound by the doctor caused Jess to flinch and fidget. "I think there's some swelling here, too. The infection could be moving up to your leg. How does this feel?" he asked as he put some pressure on Jess' upper ankle.

"A little sore. I've been worse," Jess said, trying to make light of the matter.

Reaching into his bag, Doc Riley pulled out another little sack of salts and put them on the table. "I want you to keep soaking it three times a day. How much ointment do you have left?"

Jonesy went to the shelf and opened the container to show Doc Riley that the jar was still about half full.

"Okay, that should hold you. I'm going to make up a new batch with some more drawing ingredients in it. I'll bring it out tomorrow when I check on Slim. In the meantime, stay off that foot, soak it like I told you and use that salve. Keep it up when you're sitting down. Elevating it should help keep any swelling down," the doctor instructed, much to Jess' consternation.

"That's what I've been telling him," Jonesy said with a self -important smug look on his face, as he tightened his derby to his ears and placed his hands on his hips "Now if I can get him to listen to us."

"Jess, I'm leaving you in Jonesy's care. I expect you to listen to him. He's done a lot of his own doctoring and he knows about infections. You listen to me and you listen to him. You could to lose that foot, or even your leg if you don't behave yourself. You do understand me, don't you?"

Not able to meet the doctor's eyes, Jess nodded his understanding. He was resolved with what he had to do regardless of the doctor's threats or who tried to stand in his way. Right now, Andy was his priority. He could worry about tending to his foot once the boy was back home, safe and sound.

Now that Thomas was back, Jess wondered how he'd make his escape. He took Jonesy at his word that he would enlist Thomas' help to keep Jess off his feet and at home. Hadn't the gypsies come to the house with the news about the cattle, Jess had envisioned that he would have left while Jonesy was busy in the kitchen. Now, with the gypsy men working in the barn and going to help with the stage and Thomas sitting inside the house, it was going to make his getaway far more difficult. Thomas had overheard what the doctor and Jonesy had said and was watching Jess like a hawk.

The thunder and lightning was now far off in the distance and the downpour had turned into a steady drizzle in the dank, dark early afternoon. Jonesy was busy in the kitchen preparing broth for Slim and the afternoon meal for the rest of them, resigned to the fact that he would be required to feed the gypsy men this meal as well.

Jess sat in his rocker, facing the window, watching the raindrops rolling down the glass as the day was wasting away. To his right, Thomas slouched on the couch; his head bobbing on occasion as he nearly nodded off. 'That's it, Thomas, take a little nap,' Jess thought as he looked over his shoulder to make sure he was out of Jonesy's sight.

It wasn't long before the big man's breathing became slowed and shallow. A snort came from him, waking him with a start and he sat up straighter again. Jess smiled at him, but didn't say anything, hoping the man would settle back and soon be sleeping soundly. Jess' eyes darted between the rain falling against the window and the man on the couch. He was biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

After what seemed an eternity, Jess was positive that Thomas was finally deeply asleep. Getting up quietly from his rocker, the cowboy made his way to the table where his boot sat next to the chair that he'd been sitting on earlier. Quietly he picked it up and hobbled back to the rocker and sat down easily, so as to not make any unusual sounds. Soundlessly, he set the boot down beside the chair to the far side so that it wouldn't be spotted by Jonesy if he entered the room.

His timing couldn't have been better. He wasn't settled in the rocker before Jonesy came around the corner carrying a bowl of soup that he was taking to Slim. Jess feigned that he was napping, as well.

Knowing that Jonesy would be in the room with Slim for some time while he spoon-fed the injured rancher, Jess thought that this was his opportunity to sneak away. He reached for his boot, pulled out the sock that was stuffed into it, and cautiously pulled it on over the pad, stuck by the ointment to his foot. Getting the boot on was a struggle. Like the doctor had observed, his ankle was a bit swollen, but with a little effort, he was able to get it on. It felt tight, but he figured that the pressure might help bring down the swelling. At least he hoped it would.

Getting up as quietly as he could, Jess crept slowly toward the door, strapped on his gun belt, then put on his jacket and hat. The slicker that Thomas had used was Slim's, so his own must still be in the barn, he surmised. He took the slicker and held it over his head to shelter him from the rain for the trip to the barn.

The sound of the rain on the roof muffled any sound the door made when he opened it. Luckily the wind had died down considerably, along with the subsiding of the thunder and lightning, so opening the door didn't cause a gust of wind to give away his departure.

Moving as quickly as he could through the slick mud, Jess was amazed that his foot didn't seem to ache as much as it had yesterday, even with the additional swelling. He hoped that it was a good sign and that the doctor's salts and salve had done the trick. He regretted the promise he'd made earlier about soaking his foot while on the trail, but he couldn't go back for the salts or salve. If caught, Jonesy wouldn't give him another chance to sneak out. He'd have to do without caring for his foot until after he found Andy and hope for the best.

He could hear the chatter of the gypsy men as they worked at the back of the barn in a stall, apparently soaping and oiling the leather harnesses to pass some time before the next stage arrived. At least he didn't have to try to avoid running into them or give them any excuses for saddling up his horse and leaving. Though he doubted that they would have run to the house to tell Jonesy.

Once Traveler was saddled, Jess donned his own slicker, after hanging Slims on a nail to dry, and walked his horse out from the barn. He would have walked him out past the corral if it weren't raining, but didn't want his seat wet and slick, so he hopped up into the saddle and slowly rode his mount out of the yard as noiselessly as he could. Again, the sound of the rain falling on the little ranch house would have covered any sound of a slow moving horse leaving in the soft mud and puddles of standing water.

 **Chapter 35**

The storm was right over their vardos as they continued to follow closely along the edge of the swelling river. Andy was disappointed in Ion that he didn't understand that Crina had lied to them all. She came to him to tell him he could turn back if he wanted to after she told him all her secrets. She lied. She didn't tell him that her plan was for them to get married before meeting back up with her family so her father couldn't promise her to someone she didn't want to marry. All the dreams of adventure that had passed through Andy's mind had crumbled to dust. He'd dreamed of being free, having Crina as a friend, but still on his own doing as he pleased with no big brother to tell him what he could and could not do. Now it would be a wife and the whole family of gypsies dictating his life. That wasn't what he wanted nor what he'd been promised. He felt trapped.

Lying down on his bedroll in the back of the vardo, Andy felt the wagon slipping and sliding as it traveled on the uneven, muddy and slippery path. The steady swaying of the vardo put the adolescent to sleep, no longer aware of the storm raging around him.

He dreamt that he was running. Running as fast as he could from something he couldn't see, some kind of danger. He tried to hide but everything he tried to conceal himself behind was too small, the trees too thin, all giving him no alternative but to keep running and running, seeking another place to hide. A sudden, loud clash of thunder brought him back to wakefulness and he sat up, forgetting where he was for a few moments until his head cleared. The dream of running came rushing into his mind, the terror he felt. With the developing circumstances, the nightmare was becoming quite real.

Climbing to the front of the wagon, Andy opened the heavy curtain and climbed out onto the bench to sit next to Ion.

"Have you been thinking about what we have spoken about, Andy?" Ion asked.

"When will we be stopping?" Andy asked. "I want us to talk to Crina. I want her to tell everyone the truth. Ion, she lied to you an' she lied to me. I wanna go home."

"I told you, Andy. We can't turn back now. Look at that river. It is getting very angry. We cannot turn back and we cannot stop until we are past the turnoff. If we stop now, we could be caught in a flood. When we get to high ground we will stop and my sister will cook while we talk to Crina. Then, well, then, I do not know, Andy. I still believe that Crina believed that you wanted to marry her."

"Yes, I guess I do, maybe someday, but not now. I wanted to do just like she said. Travel with you to Texas an' then I was gonna ask her father for her hand….for her to be promised to me. We were gonna wait...that's what she told me," Andy pleaded, again.

As the vardos moved along a slope near the river, Ion's wagon started to fishtail then slipped and slid down the slick bank and into the river. The rushing water carried the vardo swiftly through the fast moving, swirling rapids, as it bumped against fallen trees and rocks. Andy could see that they were traveling far faster than the wagon Crina was riding in that remained on the riverbank above them. Ion called to his brother-in-law for help as the wagon was being split apart, some of it being hung up on rocks, tree branches, and roots that jutted out into the river from the eroding bank.

The panicking horses pulled free from what remained of the wagon, struggling to make their way to shore. As lightening flashed around them, the animals found purchase on the slippery riverbank, and were soon disappearing into the distance. The sound of their retreating hooves splashing in the slop was concealed by the continuing crash of thunder.

Andy jumped into the water from what was left of the front of the vardo to get out of the way of the floating wreckage that were swirling in the water around him. From the water, he watched as the whole wagon disintegrated. He'd lost sight of Ion soon after the vardo hit the water and he felt very alone fighting to keep his head above the rushing water as he was pulled along with the current.

Crina jumped from the wagon on shore and ran toward the rushing, churning river, screaming out Andy's name. Testa stopped the vardo and quickly chased after Crina, grabbing her around the waist before she could jump into the river.

A large, heavy barrel rushing toward Ion in the river, hit the young gypsy and forced him down under the water. Katia had joined Testa and Crina on the slippery bank and cried out her brother's name, but he never resurfaced in the churning torrent.

Andy continued to fight the rapids, grabbing on to anything he could, but everything was floating along with him. There was nothing for him to grasp purchase of to stop being swept away in the deluge.

Crina broke away from Testa and ran along the shore, following after Andy, calling to him and soon slipped into the raging river herself. Testa jumped into the angry water and tried to snatch the young woman by her flaying arms, but the current had already taken hold of her and she was swept away from him and he was unable to catch up with her. Only Katia remained on the shore screaming out to her husband and the gypsy girl. Crina, Testa and Andy were all fighting the currents that each was caught up in, trying to avoid the wreckage and keep their heads above the water.

Testa caught hold of a root and was able to pull himself from the river, only to watch Crina and Andy continue to fight the debris and violent river.

Katia rushed to where Testa rested on the muddy bank trying to catch his breath after the ordeal he'd been through. A few feet away, Ion's dead body resurfaced, caught between some jagged rocks. It was obvious he had not survived. The barrel had crushed his skull upon impact.

Crawling through the mud, Testa pulled the dead body of his brother-in-law from the angry river. Katia fell to her knees weeping over her young brother's body. Testa stood up, not knowing how to comfort his grieving wife, still concerned about Crina and Andy being swept away. His eyes scanned the rushing water.

"I will be back, Katia. I must follow the others and see if I can pull them from the river. I am sorry about Ion, but I must try to save the others," Testa said, his hand touching his wife's shoulder lovingly and giving it a squeeze before leaving her to follow in the direction that the river flowed.

The rain was turning into a drizzle and the thunder was becoming more distant, but it didn't make the task of following the people as they drifted along with the river any easier. Testa called out to Crina, unaware of whom the other person was that he'd seen and that Crina was calling to. It was evident to him that Crina knew who it was when she saw the accident. She was calling out Ion's name as well as another but rain and thunder did not allow Testa to understand the other name. He was puzzled about the whole situation, wondering who the dark-haired person bobbing in the river could be. He didn't know of any other member of their band or family that would be traveling with Ion.

Both young people were out of his sight as he made his way along the slippery, sodden shore. He called out Crina's name over and over but received no response. The gypsy man continued along the riverbank hoping that one or the other had grasped a branch, as he had, and was resting, catching their breath after the wild, turbulent drift down the river.

After wading through mud and slipping on the silt along the bank, Testa was disheartened to find the colorful skirt of Crina snagged in a mass of greenbrier bushes, entwined in a tangle of some still rooted in the eroding edge of the river. Fighting the biting brambles, Testa pulled her limp, soggy and bloodied ragdoll body from the water. Gently laying her lifeless form on the shore he felt eagerly for a pulse, hoping that there was still a spark of viability to be found, only to be disappointed. Looking upward into the endlessly gray clouds, Testa sadly admitted to himself that the girl, so full of life and spirit, was gone. His face, moist from the rain, hid the tears that welled up in his eyes and escaped down his cheeks as he stifled a sob for the loss of the youthful gypsy woman and his wife's brother. "So much death," he whispered to himself.

He sat for a few minutes grieving before his attention returned to the river and to looking for the other, mysterious being. He followed along the river for about a mile. The debris had all but disappeared either washed away or sunk to the river bottom. There was no sign of the other person along this shore and the far side was too far away to see in the still blinding drizzle.

Giving up, Testa started to walk back toward where he'd left Crina. When he got to her body, he picked her up and carried her to where his wife was still weeping over her lost brother. Testa laid the gypsy girl on the ground next to Ion, creating a new burst of tears to pour from his wife along with her unanswered questioning of "Why?" over and over again. He had no answers to give her.

The gypsy man trudged through the mud to his wagon, tied the horses to trees on higher ground and pulled a shovel out from the back of the vardo. On higher ground he dug two shallow graves, upset that he couldn't keep them from filling with the water that continued to rain down around him, vying between sudden downpours and a steady drizzle.

Once both holes were as deep as he felt necessary, Testa went to where his wife sat holding the hands of the two people she loved. He first picked up Crina and carried her to one of the waiting graves. He placed her body in it as gently as he could, then went back to get Katia and bring Ion's body to lay him to rest, as well. Katia followed him to the gravesites and silently watched as he put her brother in the hastily dug grave. Testa then proceeded to cover the bodies with the mounds of mud that was piled next to the holes.

Unable to watch, Katia ran to the vardo, going inside to change into some dry clothing. She came back out wearing an oilskin and began gathering rocks in a grain bucket to pile on the graves.

Once the bodies were covered, Testa joined his wife in gathering sufficient rocks to cover the graves to keep scavengers from digging up the bodies.

Evidence of the wrecked wagon was obvious by parts caught up in low-lying branches, brambles, roots and rocks along the river's edge for a good half mile. Some rubble that hadn't washed down the river or sank to the bottom was starting to wash up near the shore, but none of it was deemed worth salvaging to the grieving gypsy couple.

After saying a few words over the graves of their deceased family, the pair looked back at the river, Testa hoping to see some sign of the strange being. He asked Katia if she knew who it might be, but she had no idea, wishing she could ask Ion, knowing that she'd never be able to ask Ion about anything ever again. She felt that Crina must have known whom it was, but she, too, would be silent forever.

 **Chapter 36**

The steady drizzle was depressing to the lone cowboy as he traveled through the sodden environment. Often his horse was up to his knees in the mud. The sucking sound of the horse pulling his legs out of the muck sickened the rider. Turning his horse toward higher ground, hoping that it might not be as saturated, Jess continued slowly on his hunt for Andy. There was no turning back now. He felt if he stopped for even a split second, he and Traveler would be enveloped by the muck and mire.

He'd ridden down the Laramie road to where the fence had been downed and then mended as the gypsy camp passed through on their pilgrimage south. The rain had already washed away much of the evidence of their passing. If there hadn't been sheep eating their way along the path they'd cut, there probably would have been no evidence left of their ever crossing through the rain-beaten open fields. Only the sheered grass gave any indication of anything passing through the range. It would take a seasoned tracker to see that evidence after the driving rain laying so much of the grass down close to the ground, waiting for the sun to rejuvenate it again as it reached for the golden rays.

A part of him wished that he'd listened to Jonesy and that he was back at the ranch, warm, dry and drinking a cup of hot coffee. Having to sneak out in a hurry Jess was out on the trail with no rations, no change of clothes and chasing after a ghost that he had no idea even existed. Where is Andy? Had he followed after the gypsy girl like Jonesy suspected? What if he caught up with the band and Andy wasn't there? How could he ever return to the ranch empty-handed? Only questions swam in his head. He had no answers, only an instinct to hunt and it was that compulsion that kept him moving, disregarding his own discomfort and his usual concern for the welfare for his oldest friend, Traveler.

On the crest of a small hill, the earth was draining pretty well as rivulets formed to carry off the excessive water. The mud was only inches deep, but it would be impossible to stay on this higher ground since it ran east to west and Jess had to follow southward to catch up with the moving gypsy caravan.

Stopping often to study the ground, he was sure that he was right in following the sheep's trail. Where the wagon went, the flock would follow. He was grateful, now, that the band had so many of the animals or his tracking would have been far more difficult. The matted grass trail was far easier to follow than what would have been only water filled wagon ruts.

Removing his neckerchief, Jess wrapped it around the collar of his slicker. When the wind shifted, it allowed water to trickle down inside of the oilcloth slicker. Riding with his right foot out of the stirrup to keep the pressure off his sore foot, Jess continued southward. He rode with his hat pulled down low to keep his face somewhat dry from the constant drizzle while his foot pulsated and throbbed with each step. An occasional stabbing pain radiated up his calf to his knee.

'Where was Andy?' Jess' thoughts turned to fond memories of time he'd spent with the boy alone, with Slim or teaming up to tease Jonesy, all of them bringing a wan smile to his lips. No, there was no turning back. He'd find Andy and bring him home. There was no doubt in his mind.

"Thomas, Thomas, wake up," Jonesy said as he nudged the mountain man who was sound asleep on the leather settee.

"Wha..what?" Thomas muttered as he woke from a dream about finding a bonanza in gold.

"Where's Jess," Jonesy asked urgently.

"Uhhh, don't know," Ryan said as he stood up to look around the room, while hoisting up his slipping, loose fitting trousers.

"I already looked. He's not here and the slicker," Jonesy pointed to where it had been draped to dry, "is gone. He had to have gone outside. He didn't say anything to you?"

"No. Far as I knowed, he was sittin' in that thar rocker. I musta dozed off."

"Dozed off? You were snoring like a bear," the indignation clear in Jonesy's voice.

"I'll go check in the barn. He's kinda fond of that horse of his. He might be out thar curryin' that ole cur," Thomas said, as he started for the door.

Following the mountain man, Jonesy said, "If that's all he's doing, that's fine. If his horse is gone, you better come right back in here and tell me. It wouldn't surprise me if he took off to go looking for Andy."

"Be right back. Now don't ya worry, Jonesy. He's got a good head on his shoulders an' I don't think he'll do anythin' foolish," Ryan said in a calm and condescending manner that raised Jonesy's ire.

"You don't know Jess too well, do you?" Jonesy replied sarcastically as Thomas closed the door, treading his way through the mud and drizzle to see if Jess was in the barn.

Dragos and his brothers were just inside the barn door rigging a team of horses to ready them for the expected arrival of the stage. Thomas asked if they'd seen Jess and all three had to agree that they hadn't seen him or noticed if his horse was still in the stall. Thomas walked to the part of the barn where Alamo and Traveler were kept to find Traveler gone. Hurrying past the gypsy men, Thomas rushed back to the house to report to Jonesy.

"His horse is gone," Thomas reported as he re-entered the house, dripping on the wooden floor.

"I thought so. That fool. He left his soaking salts and salve and took no food. Thomas, I'll pack up some supplies for you. You'll have to go out and try to catch up with him," Jonesy said as he quickly headed for the kitchen and started searching for supplies to throw into a sack, followed closely by the mountain man.

"Thomas, you go saddle up a good horse. I'll get this packed up for you. Once you catch up with that young fool, you make sure he takes time to soak that foot and get more salve on that wound," Jonsey said sternly. "Tie him down, if you have to. I know he'll fight you about coming back. It won't be worth the fight. Just make sure he takes care of himself until he catches up with those gypsies. After he's done that, he'll come back with you without a fight, with or without Andy."

Jess came upon the campsite where the gypsies had camped. Not much of a story was told with the trampled ground and the washed away path that the wagons had taken. Only the thrashed trail left by the sheep continued to make the tracking of the caravan easy to follow in the now, once again, teeming rain.

The cowboy was glad that the lightning had long-ago passed and was now only an unpleasant memory as was the early morning hail. He hoped that none of it would return. Hail out in the big open could be as dangerous as lightning. He still regretted not leaving the ranch earlier, but sensed in his heart how right Jonesy had been, looking out for his well-being regardless of everything else that had been going on, especially the crisis over Andy. Jess realized how much he held that old coot in such high regard. He was as true a friend as he'd found in Slim. No wonder Slim loved him like a father. A strange emotion washed over the cowboy, but he quickly brushed it away only to have more fond memories of Andy come rushing to his thoughts.

To the west, Jess thought he saw some lightning up of the cloud cover. Hoping that some clearing might be coming soon, Jess pressed on, wishing he could push his horse faster, but the mud made moving any more than a walk impossible. As it was, he conceded that he was asking more of his horse than he should, hoping that Traveler's spirit and stamina would have them overtaking the slow moving wagons within the next day or so. Now if only the clouds would part and let the sun come out to help dry things up and make the ride a little more comfortable. He sensed that his boots were soaked through and figured that the dampness wasn't ideal for his injured foot, but now it was much too late to do anything about it. He was hours away from the ranch and getting closer to the gypsy camp with every hour he rode. No matter what, he wouldn't turn back until he knew for sure whether Andy was or wasn't traveling with the troupe.

Thomas set out from the ranch with supplies hanging in a sack from the side of a sorrel horse and Jess' foot remedies tucked in the saddlebags so they would be easy to find and force upon the young cowboy as soon as he caught up with him. Jonsey packed the soaking pan in amongst the provisions. Slim's slicker, found hanging in the barn, was almost a perfect fit, and it would help to keep Thomas dry. Without it, the thought of trying to make the trip during the constant downpours would have been near suicide, the cold rain and wind robbing him of body heat. Jonesy's oil coat would never have covered the big man's massive body. Even Slim's slicker barely closed around the man's barrel of a belly.

Jonesy had heckled the poor mountain man with the same instructions over and over that Thomas was glad to ride away to have some peace and quiet, even if it was on the back of a horse in the pouring down rain.

Luckily, Thomas was able to pick up the trail from the Laramie road just as Jess had found it. Having had his own experience in tracking, he found it easy to follow the trail laid by the sheep. It wasn't long before he let out a whoop as he joyously found the water-filled, sunken tracks of Jess' horse.

Like Jess, the older man knew better than to press his horse too hard through the muddy conditions, so Thomas took it easy most of the time, but when he hit higher ground with better footing, he asked more of his horse, hoping that he'd finally catch up with the errant cowboy.

Both men had to contend with the varying amount of rain. Sometimes it was a steady, biting drizzle, small, but almost razor sharp drops that were like being poked with hundreds of tiny needles, then it would change to an unwavering wall of a drenching downpour making it difficult to breathe. Either way the rain never let up. Both horses were tiring quickly, and both riders were aware of that fatigue, but neither was ready to give in just yet. They each had to push on just that little bit further. Jess to find Andy and Thomas to find Jess, trudging forward, blindly at times.

 **Chapter 37**

"Jonesy," Slim weakly called out from his bed. Within a few minutes, the older man appeared at the door.

"What is it, Slim," Jonesy asked patiently.

"Water? Can you bring me some water?"

"Sure, Slim. Let me move this table closer to your bed. Do you think you can reach it okay if I bring you a pitcher and a cup?" Jonesy said as he moved a small stand closer to Slim's bunk.

"I think I can manage. Thanks, Jonesy," Slim replied, shifting on the bed to a more upright position.

The old caretaker brought a pewter pitcher of water and a glass into the room, setting them down on the small table, then quickly pouring some of the water and handing it to the rancher.

"Thanks, Jonesy. What time is it?" Slim asked, much to Jonesy's surprise.

Taking out his pocket watch, Jonesy said, "It's almost two-thirty. Why?"

"Andy should be home soon. I sure have missed him. I don't remember seeing him. I must've really been out of my head. Say, Jonesy, he didn't see me when I was using your medicinal whiskey, did he?" Slim asked, anxiously.

"No, no, he wasn't here when the accident happened. Umm, he was away staying with a friend when it happened. We thought it was best for him to stay there until things quieted down around here," Jonesy lied as convincingly as he could, taking off his bowler hat and giving it a twirl to avoid eye contact with Slim.

"But he'll be home, today, won't he?" Slim asked, hopefully.

"Ummm, here, it's time for you to take your medicine, Slim," Jonesy said as he reached up on the dresser for the laudanum and spoon.

"I don't need that now. I want to be awake to talk to Andy when he gets home," Slim argued feebly.

"Nope, Doc Riley said you have to take this before the pain starts. It's easier to keep it at bay than it is to make it stop. You better take this. When Andy gets home, I promise I'll have him come in and sit with you," Jonesy said uncorking the laudanum. In his heart he truly meant what he said, hoping that Andy would be home safe and sound shortly. He had faith in Jess, even though he was still angry with him for sneaking off.

"I'm hungry, Jonesy. Can't I have something to eat before you give me that laudanum?"

"I reckon," the older man responded as he put the cork back in the bottle. "Anything in particular? I have the boiled chicken that I used for making the soup. Are you up to something that heavy?"

"You bet. I'm famished."

"Okay, I'll go heat it up some. I have some left-over boiled potatoes. Want some of them, too?"

"You're the best, Jonesy. I could eat that whole chicken, I'm so hungry," Slim replied with a bright smile.

"It'll take a few minutes. You think you can hold out that long without eating your pillow or something?" Jonesy teased as Slim attempted to sit up and prop himself against the pillows.

"I can hold out," Slim agreed while Jonesy helped him get the pillows just so and pulled the blankets up to Slim's chin.

Leaving the bedroom, Jonesy walked to the kitchen, wondering what excuse he could use when Slim asked about Andy the next time. And what if he asked about Jess or Thomas? Or those gypsies? Jonesy already rued the day that the black-haired girl appeared on the porch to ask for their help. His whole world had been turned upside down from the moment she'd knocked at their door and he truly believed that Crina was the cause of all of this turn of events. He felt it in his aching bones.

True to his word, Slim was hungry as a bear and ate everything that Jonesy put on his plate. Jonesy poured Slim another glass of milk before he reached for the laudanum and spoon.

"Time to take your medicine, Slim," Jonesy said as he pulled the cork out from the bottle of the narcotic. Here's your milk chaser, unless you'd like me to mix it in with the milk."

"No, I'll take it straight and drown the taste with the milk. Not sure I could tolerate drinking it in it," Slim replied as Jonesy filled the spoon with the bitter medicine. After downing the liquid, Slim immediately took a long swallow of the milk.

Settling Slim back down in his bed and after pulling the blanket over him, Jonesy proceeded to pick up the eating utensils to take them to the kitchen. Over the resounding rain, they both recognized the sound of the afternoon stage arriving. Slim rolled on his side, "Sounds like the stage. I reckon Jess is getting it?"

"Ummm, I reckon. Those gypsies are out there helping, it was raining too hard for them to work on their wagon, so they're here helping out," Jonesy said, spinning it just right so that he wasn't telling a total lie.

Yawning, Slim requested once again that Andy be sent in to sit with him. Jonesy agreed as he made his escape from the bedroom, hoping that Slim would soon be asleep and forget all about their conversation and never miss the fact that Andy was not at the ranch.

His horse faltering, yet not giving up his spirit, caused Jess to decide that they had gone far enough for the day. Ahead he saw what looked like the river. He hadn't realized how much country they'd actually covered. Urging his horse on, the cowboy looked for a likely place where they could possibly hole up with some semblance of dry shelter. The tree cover was too sparse along the riverbank to offer much refuge from the weather from what he could see.

Getting down from his horse, Jess limped painfully along, his knee giving out a couple of times, the result of a shooting pain rising in his leg, as he lead Traveler toward the river, still following the matted grass where the sheep had grazed and drank while the wagons stopped for a short time. Looking across the field, it was obvious that the gypsies had turned west along the river. Having traveled the route in the past, Jess recognized that it was the most appropriate route to head south, since he knew that the river wound around and shifted south several miles to the west.

Rather than head for the river, Jess started cutting across the field going to the west. The crushed grass could be seen for a good distance, proving to the most untrained eye, the direction in which the procession had traveled.

In the distance, through the now misting rain, Jess could make out a small ledge that might offer some shelter, if not totally, from the rain. It could possibly provide cover from the wind, as well, should it decide to kick up again for the evening and night. Dry firewood would be impossible to find out in the open country but maybe there would be something he could find near the ledge that might be burnable. He hoped but doubted it. Now if he could only kick up a jackrabbit or a pheasant so he might have a good meal, he thought, but without a fire to cook it….

It appeared, anyway, that all the wildlife had taken cover for the storm and his hope of finding a meal on the run never materialized. "At least you'll get some supper," Jess said as he patted Traveler on the neck as they waded through the mud together in the direction of the sheltering ledge, stopping occasionally to pull his boot free from the sucking mud.

The mountain man continued following the flattened grass trail wishing he were back at the ranch sitting in front of a nice warm fire. Due to the darkening skies, it appeared that night was about to fall shortly, but he was aware that it was only the illusion of not seeing the sun and the heavy, water-laden clouds blocking any glimpse of the blue sky. Toward the western horizon, the gray looked a little less leaden, Thomas observed. Perhaps the rain would come to an end before morning. He could only hope and pray.

Thomas was starting to feel hungry, but decided to put off stopping to eat a little while longer. There would be plenty of time to eat when he was either forced to stop due to his horse's fatigue or once nightfall arrived. In the meantime he felt that he had to push on, hoping that Jess had pulled up to rest his horse along the way or taken to some shelter he'd found. As he pressed on, Thomas listened intently for the possibility of gunfire, maybe Jess finding some game for his supper, since Thomas knew that the young cowhand hadn't taken time to pack any rations. Jess might have some jerky or hardtack in his saddlebags, Thomas also reasoned, knowing from the years he'd spent driving cattle in his youth, that many cowboys carried such with them in case they came upon hard times on the trail.

Reaching back to check the saddlebags he'd found hanging in the barn, Thomas hoped to find some jerky, but only found the few things he'd loaded up to take with him in the one side, and binoculars, a hoof pick, and a few smithing tools and nails in the other. The mountaineer found nothing that was edible to sate his hunger before he was ready to stop for the day.

 **Chapter 38**

Hanging tightly on to a large rock on the far side of the river, Andy was exhausted and cold from the length of time he'd fought to keep his head above water while caught in the rapids. He'd drifted into a freshly formed cove, the water barely swirling around him now as the rest of the river continued to rage on its course. His thoughts turned to Jess telling him the story about when he'd fallen into the river and Slim had to rescue him. 'If only Slim was here to rescue me now,' Andy thought as he shivered uncontrollably against the cold tapping his body of its strength,

After catching his breath, the boy continued to cling to the rock, hoping to gain the courage to swim the short distance to shore. If Ion had survived the torrents and Testa was able to pull him out and they were searching for him, Andy realized they'd never find him on this side of the river. He wanted to get away from Ion and following the other wagon but this was far from what Andy had in mind.

It occurred to him how much like his nightmare this ordeal had become. Instead of running and trying to hide behind too small objects, he was tossed and tumbled in the river's current, trying to grasp onto too small items that were adrift around him, none of them able to give him the help he needed to get away from the danger he was in.

The cold water was rapidly sapping his strength as his body temperature plummeted. Andy could feel the vigor draining from him as the adrenaline rush subsided. He was cut, bruised, and broken from the pin-balling on, over, under, and around stumps, logs, rocks and other assorted debris that was riding the current. If he continued to cling to the rock and stayed in the water, Andy was cognizant that he would sooner or later fall asleep and be swept away again and probably drown. It was now or never that he had to try and make it to the riverbank.

Andy maneuvered to the other side of the rock to launch himself in the direction of the near shore. The small pool seemed tame after the hapless adventure he'd just survived. Kicking his feet as hard as he could, he propelled himself more quickly to the river's edge than he expected.

Thinking that all would be fine now, he didn't realize how slippery the bank was and found it almost impossible to get any traction to pull himself out from the water. Try and try again, he'd gain a few feet then slip back. Looking up and down the river's bank, he searched for a branch or root that would possibly allow him to pull himself up on the soggy grass and ground above the river. Seeing nothing but another large rock not far from the shore, he decided to try and swim to it. Maybe the water was shallower there, he thought, and he might be able to pull himself out. As he made his way to the rock, he snagged himself on a large, sunken branch or log. It appeared to be hooked on something near the shore, possibly more branches, or some rocks. It was unmovable as he tested it. Perhaps this would be his salvation.

Andy worked his way up the log toward the shore, finding that as he pulled himself along that the branch was tilted deeper in the river from where it was tethered. Getting closer to shore he found himself less deep in the water. He was going to be almost out of the water by the time he reached the shore, if the log was held by something near the riverbank.

Stopping once to rest and pray, Andy soon continued to try and hold on to the slippery, barkless log as he worked his way toward shore. He was within three feet of the steep bank when he found he'd reached the end of the large branch. It was lodged between some large rocks that held it securely, so near, yet so far from the bank. He saw how steep the bank was and having already experienced how slick the mud on the bank side had been, the teen was about to give up all hope when he spotted a sizable root sticking out from the steep bank. He reached out and tried to grasp it but it bent almost flat with the sheer bank, hanging down almost two feet above water's surface. It was too far to reach from his vantage point, and if he dropped back into the water, he would be even farther away.

Feeling along the log, Andy searched for a branch that might still be attached that he could break off and use to maybe move the root out far enough for him to grasp. He backed down the log for about four feet before he found anything that felt like it could be a branch attached to the timber. Holding his breath, Andy half dove under the water to see if he could break it loose. Much to his surprise, the branch wasn't attached to any thing. It was just caught in the pile of debris that had collected between the log and rocks and it came loose easily after a few tugs.

Upon resurfacing, Andy gave a whoop of victory in finding the branch and seeing how long it was. He was sure it would help him reach the root that might aid him in getting out from the water and safely up onto the riverbank.

Working his way back up the algae coated log, Andy found the end of it once again. Next to the log was a rock that jutted slightly out from the water. He poised himself on the log with his knee resting against the boulder, to steady him, and put the branch to work at trying to pull the root toward him. Even with maneuvering the tuber, the boy was unable to quite reach the root with his hand. High above him the canopy of a tree shielded him from some of the worsening downpour. The root was probably part of the sheltering tree's network and would most likely be strong enough to pull him from the water and up the slick bank, if he could only reach it.

Resting again, Andy gave more thought to his predicament. Once more he looked up and down along the shore to see if he had any other options. With none found, he decided that his only chance was to try and steady himself on the rock then jump to grab at the root and hope he didn't miss it or slip off the rock.

The rock was slippery, but examining it, Andy noted that it had smooth edges, so he wasn't worried about cutting himself if he tried to climb up on it. The top was slightly rounded, but looked like he could get reasonable footing on it.

Taking off his jacket, Andy held it by a sleeve in his teeth as he removed his boots. He then tied his boots inside his jacket and tossed the bundle up onto the shore, hoping that he wasn't making a big mistake. He rationalized that he'd have better footing on the rock in his stocking feet than he would with the smooth, leather boot soles.

Once again, Andy closed his eyes and said a little prayer before attempting to climb up on the rock. With the stick in his mouth, he reached the top of the rock, stood up, and steadied himself. He then fished with the stick to get the root to a good angle, hoping that when he made his leap it would be within his easy grasp, not too slippery, or give way with his weight.

Mustering up his courage, Andy dropped the stick and made the leap.

Jess reached the small summit and ledge, finding it almost dry beneath the overhang. It hung too low to bring his horse in from the rain, which he regretted. Checking his saddlebags for hobbles, he was disappointed to find that he didn't have any with him. Removing his saddle and gear, he used his rope to tether Traveler to a nearby tree, to keep him safe from being spooked and running off since they were so far away from anywhere. Being left afoot would have been bad enough, but when your foot hurt like hell…

With his saddle and gear in the relatively dry area under the mantel, Jess decided to settle down, as best he could for the remainder of the day and night. Both the cowboy and his horse needed to rest. He'd have to do without food or a fire, but at least it was dry. Jess hoped that the rain would be over by morning and that he might catch up with the slow moving traveling cavalcade the next day.

His foot felt like it was on fire and he couldn't remove his boot no matter how hard he struggled. He'd need help to get it off, for sure, fearing that Jonesy might be right and the only way might be to cut it off.

With empty hopes, Jess felt around inside his saddlebags to see if there could possibly be some jerky or hardtack in them from one of their long days on the range, but all he found that would have been of value was a tin of matches. That would have been great, had there been any dry wood to build a warming fire. He could scrounge up some dry grass from under the overhang, but it would burn rapidly and create very little heat. Hardly worth the effort.

Taking off his raincoat and opening his damp bedroll, Jess set himself down, leaning against his saddle and settling for a long drink of water from his canteen to be his sustenance for the day. His stomach was growling and wanted something heavier than the water he drank, but it would have to do. If he caught up with the caravan tomorrow, Jess was sure that they would treat him to a meal before he and Andy headed back home. Maybe even send some food back with them. He was sure Andy was with them. He had to be.

Finding the day winding down, Thomas started looking for a place to hole up. Some place dry, he hoped. Ahead he saw a copse of trees that could offer some protection, but not very much from the relentless rain. He was aware that the ground under them would also be soaked and that there would be no dry wood to build a fire. It was a good thing that Jonesy had packed some cooked food that he could eat cold.

It was overcast enough and the sun was getting low in the west that any light cast was not strong enough for him to actually see the holes left by Jess' horse any longer. Climbing down from his mount, Thomas searched around the ground until he found some of the water-filled tracks left by Traveler a few hours before.

Again, the mountain man searched his surroundings hoping to see a place that Jess might be holed up for the night. A line shack would have been a welcome sight. He scanned the horizon for a fire from someone's camp that could possibly draw the young cowboy to look for food or a cup of coffee and some warmth. If the gypsy camp was moving slowly enough, Jess may have caught up with them and if Thomas could see them, they both might have a warm, dry place to sleep for the night. But for all his hoping to see the glow of a fire in the distance, Thomas saw nothing.

Opting for the minor protection of the trees ahead, Thomas proceeded to lead his horse in that direction, noting that Jess' tracks continued on in this same southerly direction. With luck, he might run into Jess in the grove of cottonwoods.

 **Chapter 39**

Removing his boots allowed Andy to have better balance on the boulder in the river, but now he was dangling from a tree root and fighting to get purchase on the muddy riverbank. He wished he'd tried to make the jump wearing his boots. He then might have been able to kick with the toe into the slick bank and maybe get some grip in the sludge.

Hanging on for dear life, his hands slipping some, Andy continued to try and pull his body up the slippery riverbank and onto the wet and grassy shore. Swinging himself to the right, he finally was able to reach the edge with his foot, but it slid back off before he could get hold on something solid. He'd felt a rock there and hoped if he could hook his foot to adhere and balance himself with it and be able to work his way up to the level ground.

Finally after several tries he was able to catch the rock with his foot and was no longer swinging freely along the bank. Now he had to try to get some kind of grasp up higher with his hands then reach for and take hold of something above him, higher yet, to pull himself out of the river.

His awkward predicament had him wondering if he'd really be able to maneuver himself into position, or if he should give up and drop back into the water and try another more likely place to try and climb out. Where the banks were less high, the water was rushing and the current unforgiving. In the small inlets created by the flooding, the water was calmer. Such was the spot he was in presently, with the slippery, steep, high bank. He recognized that his chances of climbing out from the river against the rushing currents were far from likely. Finding another calm inlet was rare, as he found out from his turbulent ride through the rapids. He was lucky to have drifted into the relatively calm area he'd found.

Reaching blindly above him, he felt something hard in the mud. Feeling it more with his hand, he found it to be another root. If he could use this root to move a little higher, Andy thought, the top might be within reach, he hoped.

Making sure his foot above him was still secure, Andy cleared the newly found tuber of the slippery silt, wiped his muddied hand on his trousers, and grasped the root, testing it to see if it would hold his weight. Feeling that it was secure, the teen let go of his lower hold, quickly grasping the new root with both hands and almost losing his grip of the rock above with his foot.

Resting for a moment or two before struggling to affix his foot securely again, he realized he was now looking at the world from a position parallel to it, rather than dangling almost upside down. Andy wondered if he would ever be able to pull himself to safety as he felt his energy continuing to drain away. He was shivering, though he felt warm from the exertion. Every muscle in his body seemed to be screaming, wanting him to just let go and drop, but Andy wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. It wasn't quite a foot yet that he needed to find something sturdy enough to pull himself free of his peril. All he needed was determination and some luck and enough energy reserve to find solid ground. The rain? He'd worry about that later. For now, he had plenty to agonize over, just leaving the river behind him.

Reaching one-handed, the boy was able to feel the flat of the river shore above him. He breathed a sigh of relief, even though he comprehended that he wasn't out of the woods yet. There was grass up there, but it too was slick and slippery, and he was sure the roots would never hold his weight to pull him up the bank. Now if he could only feel something solid and unyeilding to grasp onto and haul himself up. He groped around but found nothing at first, much to his disappointment, but making another sweep, suddenly there was something there that he hadn't felt before. What startled him the most was that the solid thing he felt all of a sudden grabbed him by the wrist and gave him a yank.

Before he knew it Andy was standing on the shore, covered in mud, dripping wet and staring into the dark eyes of a young Indian brave not much older than himself. "A, a, thanks," Andy said feeling very unsure of himself. He wasn't certain if being saved by this youthful brave was a good thing or not. He'd heard the stories of white children taken prisoner and made into slaves by many of the tribes.

The Indian boy grunted and motioned for Andy to follow him. Unsure if he should, Andy first went to where he'd thrown his jacket and boots. He sat down in the wet grass to pull on his boots, but the mud caking his socks was going to make it impossible. Andy walked along the riverbank until he found a place where he could lie on his stomach and reach the water. He removed his socks and began to wash the mud from them.

The Indian boy followed after him, curious as to what Andy was doing, then smiled when he realized what the white boyhad in mind. "I can't get my boots on with all this mud," Andy said with a nervous smile while holding up the now rinsed off socks, "See? Clean socks."

"Clean socks," the brave repeated solemnly, trying to stifle a smile

"Yeah," Andy uttered, cautiously returning to where he'd left his boots, sat down and proceeded to draw one on. "See, now I can wear my boots." Putting on the first boot, Andy realized there was still water in them. Removing it, he tipped it over for the water to pour out then dumped the other boot before finally putting them on then standing up to put on his wet jacket.

Even though the rain had let up some, there was little chance of him getting any drier now that he was out of the river.

"Come," the Indian boy said, motioning Andy to follow him as he started to walk to the south.

Hesitant if he should follow or run in the other direction, Andy stood motionless for a moment, first staring at the boy, then looking toward the west then back to the boy.

The adolescent Indian stopped and motioned Andy to follow again. "Come," he said. "I kin help. Dry clothes. Shelter. Food. Come. My father will help ya."

Surprised at how well the other boy spoke his own language, Andy was reassured and decided to follow. Catching up with the Indian boy, he said, "My name's Andy. What can I call you?"

"Running Wolf," the teenaged brave responded as he hurried onward, leading Andy across the fields.

"A, hi, Running Wolf. Do you live around here?" Andy asked, looking around for the possibility of an Indian camp nearby.

"Yes, my father has a cabin near those trees," the Indian pointed, but Andy saw nothing but a woodlot of trees in the distance reaching high into the sky, many tops not visible because of the low lying, water weighted clouds.

As they neared the grove, a cabin slowly materialized, well concealed amongst the thick trunks. The majestic trees surrounding the surprisingly large shanty camouflaged the smoke coming from the chimneys. As the two boys approached the dwelling, Andy could see a small corral with a lean-to attached that housed a couple of dark colored horses and a black and white milk cow. On the other side of the cabin was another lean-to where Andy could hear the grunting of some hogs. If there were any chickens around, they were safely tucked in away from the rain, possibly in one of the other out buildings near the cabin.

Climbing the two steps onto the small porch, the Indian boy led Andy into the cabin. The heat from the fire felt heavenly to the weakened boy and he nearly collapsed as the exhaustion finally caught up with him. Slightly swaying, Andy caught himself, resting his hand on the table near the door to keep him from falling. From the far side of the cabin a red-bearded man crossed the room, surprised to see the pair of dripping boys before him.

"What's this mudpuppy ya found there, Wolf," the older man asked with a smile that spread to his grayish eyes.

"Found 'im in the river. I went ta check the trap lines an' heard some splashin' goin' on an' found 'im hangin' on ta a branch stickin' outta the bank," the Indian boy responded.

"An' ya brought 'im home fer supper?" the tall, lanky, brightly red-haired man asked, the twinkle in his right ghostly-gray eye now shifted to his left as he looked Andy up and down.

Worry spread across Andy's face, not knowing if he was there for supper or to be supper. Luckily the mud on his face disguised his confusion and fear.

"Wolf, git 'im some clean, dry clothes. He looks about yer size," the rust-bearded man said, sending the Indian boy into the other room. "So, what's yer name, boy, an' why were ya in the river?"

Andy told the man an abbreviated version of what had happened, about the wagon slipping into the river and his being washed down the rapids. About not knowing what happened to his traveling companion while being sure to leave out the part about running away from home and following Crina. He also failed to mention that the wagon he was riding in was a gypsy vardo. Apparently the short version was enough to satisfy the older man's curiosity.

"So, do ya think yer folks made it?" the man asked as he walked to the fireplace to stoke the embers and throw on another log. Andy stood closer to the fire, holding out his hands to feel the warmth and let it sink into his chilled bones.

"I wasn't travelin' with my folks. I was with some friends. My brother's in Laramie, that's where I'm headed'," Andy replied, still trying to keep his story as vague as he could. They didn't need to know that he was, in fact, not heading for Laramie when the accident occurred.

"Weren't ya travelin' on the wrong side of the river ta be headin' fer Laramie," the man asked as he stuffed some tobacco into his pipe, then struck a match to light it.

"We were on the other side when the wagon fell into the water. Comin' down the river I was swept over to this side," Andy replied.

"Maybe saved yer life," the older man said. Before he could speak again, Running Wolf came out from the adjoining room carrying some buckskin pants and a shirt, handing them to Andy.

"Here, these will help warm ya until yer clothes dry," the Running Wolf said.

Grasping the dry clothes, Andy thanked him and looked nervously around to where he could shed his wet, muddy clothes. Noticing the boy's discomfort, the older man pointed Andy to a corner stool, "Ya kin sit there to change. Don't be bashful now, we don't bite," the older man teased. "I'll git ya a towel t' dry off some," he added as he walked to a cabinet and pulled out a rough grain sack towel and handed it to Andy.

"Wolf, time t' go feed the stock. Once yer done out there ya kin come in an' put on some dry clothes, too. I'll go start supper. See if there's any eggs in the coop. Ya gotta git 'em 'fore the coons do or we won't have 'nough fer breakfast," the thin man said with a wink in Andy's direction. As directed, the Indian boy left the cabin through the front door of the room that was composed of the kitchen and sitting room.

Once dressed, Andy went to the kitchen area where the older man was lighting an oil lamp against the waning daylight, "Are you Running Wolf's father?" he asked.

"Yeah, that'd be me. His ma was Kiowa. I brought 'er here many years ago. I'm a trapper, ya see. She died last year tryin' ta have a little brother fer Wolf. We had five, two older than Wolf, two younger. Wolf was the only one ta survive. Bad weather, bad times, one born dead. We had a bad time with havin' youngins. I reckon I'm real lucky ta have m' boy. He's all I got left," the man sadly said as he lowered and shook his head causing Andy to lower his own eyes feeling bad for the trapper. "This time the baby an' her both died, leavin' me an' Wolf all alone. I miss 'er," the older man said, his eyes looking off into the far away, and then shaking himself back into the present, "Sorry. Didn't mean ta burden ya with that, but then, ya asked, I reckon."

"Yeah, I reckon an' I'm real sorry to hear about that. So, ya live out here all by yourselves?" Andy asked, curious if there might be other dwellings close by.

"I'm a trapper, an' Wolf 's becomin' one, too. Not a lotta money in it, but enough ta keep us alive. I reckon we're doin' better than some. Got m' stock, a warm cabin an' food fer the table. I reckon I can't ask fer much more, 'cept maybe havin' Golden Bird back here with us again."

"Golden Bird? Your wife?" Andy asked, unable to hide the pity he felt for the man's loss. It was apparent that he'd loved her very much. His own thoughts wandered to Crina, wondering if he would have ever felt the strong emotion for her that he saw in this trapper's eyes as he tried to hide the fact that he was wiping away a tear.

'Crina', Andy thought. 'She probably wonders what happened to me. I hope they got Ion out of the river all right.' He had mixed emotions about how things happened and that he was now free of the obligations he felt he was under. None of this was happening as he'd dreamed. The whole adventure was becoming a nightmare. Even now, he had no idea how or when he was ever going to get home. If Slim was looking for him, how could he ever think of looking for him on this side of the river? And if he caught up with Crina and the others, they would have no idea what to tell him. He was sure they wouldn't know if he were dead or alive and wondered if they might even be still be searching for him.

After a good, hot supper, Andy wrapped up in some warm blankets and stretched out on the floor before the large fireplace. Rather than wake him, the trapper and his son bedded themselves down quietly for the night. Andy slept soundlessly and dreamlessly through the night.

 **Chapter 40**

Jess' night wasn't as peaceful as Andy's. In the distance Jess heard the roar of what sounded like a bear, a grizzly or perhaps a black bear. His subconscious told him that it was getting closer and closer, louder and louder. He woke with a start to realize that the sound that he'd perceived was only the growl of his own famished stomach.

The hazy sunlight told him that the night had finally passed, and now fully awake, he became painfully aware of the fiery agony in his foot that radiated up his calf to his knee. As he rolled to his side Jess recognized that not only did his foot and leg hurt, his head throbbed in unison with the pulsating of his swollen foot. He also discerned that his back was soaked, not from lying on moist dirt, for he was on dry ground under the rock mantel, but was drenched with sweat. He could feel the trickle of perspiration as it ran down his face. No one had to tell him. He was running a fever-thanks to the wound in his foot.

Groaning as he sat himself up, he raised his hands to his pounding head. "At least it stopped rainin'," Jess said to himself. Looking around his shelter, he remembered that he had no rations, no coffee and even if he did, there was no dry wood for making a fire to heat anything up anyway. Jess reached for his boot and pulled it on to his good foot. Not wanting to really bear the pain, he resolved to try and see if the other boot might be loose enough for him to remove it now that it had rested for several hours. He wanted to see how bad his wound looked after being on horseback most of the previous day and not having treated it with the doctor's potions.

It was obvious that the swelling was now well above his foot and ankle. There was no way the boot was going to budge, at least not without help from another person. 'So much for the good boots,' he cringed at the thought of having to cut it off. 'Maybe along the seams,' he further pondered, then decided that he couldn't consider it. "These are my best boots," he said loudly to no one but himself as he wiped a trickle of sweat running along side his cheek.

Half crawling, the weakened cowboy made his way out from under the ledge to take a look around at the sky. There were still clouds all around him, but they were now light and fluffy with only a few dark ones on the far eastern horizon. Even the rising sun couldn't seem to brighten them any. To the west, the sky appeared to be shed of any rain clouds showing a hint of blue sky. Once the sun was up it would be easier to determine what to expect for the day. There was a slight breeze, but the scent of rain wasn't resting on it any longer.

Upon seeing his master, Traveler let out a nicker and trotted to greet Jess, hoping that he'd be given his customary treat. "Hold on, boy. I might have somethin' here in my pocket," Jess said as he reached in his left pocket and came out with a lump of sugar. "How's that?" he asked, watching the horse bob his head up in down in sheer joy as he munched on the sugar lump. "I'm afraid that's it, my friend. Oh, I have one or two more, but we might need to save them for breakfast tomorrow."

Traveler put his head down and continued to pull at the grass at his owner's feet as Jess gently stroked the horse's shoulder. "Looks like we better get on our way. I hope we reach the camp sometime today, n' the sooner the better," Jess said as he gingerly turned and limped back to crawl under the ledge to pull out his gear. Once back where his bedroll remained opened, he decided to take another minute to rest. He stretched out on the blankets, wrapping one around him and before long he was once again asleep, but in a fever-sleep. He tossed and turned calling out for Andy and Slim, finally waking himself as he cried out for Andy again, thinking he saw the boy standing near the opening to the ledge looking in at him.

Fully awake now, he realized he'd been dreaming. But seeing Andy seemed so real that Jess looked toward the rocks where he'd envisioned the boy standing. Trying to get up, the dark-haired cowboy found that he was extremely dizzy. Holding his head to try and stop the spinning, Jess got up on one knee, but the dizziness caused him to sway so much that he quickly put himself back down on the blanket so he wouldn't fall. Once his head was down on the sheepskin underside of the saddle, he wasn't asleep this time, he'd passed out. There was nothing that would disturb him now while his body tried its best to heal itself. A deep sleep is what his body needed and it wasn't going to be denied. He was no longer in pain or aware of anything else going on around him.

The sun woke Thomas and he gave thanks to the gods that had finally smiled upon him to take away the storm clouds. His oilcloth coat was barely keeping his clothes dry. Another hour or two of rain and he was sure he wouldn't have had a dry spot left on his body.

It had been cold sleeping on the wet ground overnight, the rain pelting his face at times when he'd rolled over and it was no longer covered. The oilcloth he'd had over his blankets had partially slid off as he slept and the blanket was partially wet, but under it Thomas was still fairly dry.

His boots had soaked through early the day before. The mountaineer pulled them off and drained the water that had soaked into them then took off his socks and wrung them out as tightly as he could. He wished he could squeeze out every drop of water and put them back on bone dry, rather than being damp and cold. Resolved that no matter how much he hurt his hands trying to wring out the water, they would never be dry enough to his satisfaction.

Once he was fully dressed, he hung his bedroll from a tree branch facing the sun, hoping to dry it out some before he set out. He then searched around to find some fallen limbs. They wouldn't be dry, he knew, but if they'd been dead for any length of time, they just might catch enough to make a small fire to brew himself some hot coffee to go along with some of the cold biscuits that Jonsey had put in the supply sack.

Coming out from under the canopy that the trees had formed, Thomas looked around in all directions, but concentrated on looking to the south and west, once again hoping to see evidence of a campfire. He sniffed the air hoping to catch the scent of wood burning, just in case his sight was failing him. Nothing.

Going back under the trees, the old man kicked around looking for any wood that didn't appear to need the water wrung out of it, but again, he came up empty handed. The whole world seemed to be thoroughly saturated.

"Well, horse, looks like ya had yer fill fer the night. Sure wish I could have me some coffee ta warm me up some, but looks like cold biscuits an' water is breakfast fer me," Thomas said as he started to sift through the sack Jonesy had packed for him.

The horse came closer, curious about what the man was rummaging through, "Get away, horse. These is my vittles. Go on now, go git yer own. Lookie, see ya have miles an' miles of food out there," he motioned widely with his hands. "Now leave mine alone. Shoo," he said standing up to push the hobbled horse on to grazing away from where the saddle and sack were sitting.

Taking two biscuits from the sack, Ryan walked away from the stand of trees again to search the horizon, once more, hoping that he may have missed the smoke of a fire, if not to find Jess, maybe to find himself a hot cup of coffee with some cookie traveling with a cattle drive and passing through the area. Again nothing.

When he'd finished his light breakfast, Thomas retrieved the sated horse, saddled, and mounted him to continue to follow Jess' trail. It only took him a few minutes to find some of the deeply sunken tracks left by the cowboy's horse. Jess' trail had become easier to track than the nearly camouflaged trail, now rain-washed and wind-swept, left by the sheep.

Waking up to the sun shining didn't put much sunshine into Jonesy's disposition this morning. There was still no sign of Jess or Andy and he discerned that Slim would be feeling a little stronger as the days passed. It would be getting harder and harder to continue to hide the fact from Slim that Andy was missing and that Jess was out looking for him. If that wasn't bad enough, if Slim found out that Jess was injured as well, there would be no holding him down from trying to get out of bed and going out to find both of those foolish young men, Jonesy figured.

As quietly as he could, Jonesy slipped into the kitchen to get the stove stoked for making breakfast. He hoped that Slim wouldn't waken until the early stage came, thus thinking that Andy was on it and on his way to school, buying Jonesy a little more time to not have to explain the boy's absence.

Jonesy wanted to tip-toe in and check on Slim, but was afraid that if he opened the bedroom door that he'd waken him. He let that idea pass, rather waiting to hear Slim call for him or until after the stage arrived and left.

Debating with himself about putting coffee on to brew, Jonesy decided to not make anything that would send any tempting aromas through the house. The smell of freshly brewed coffee or bacon frying could be enough to cause Slim to wake and ask to see Andy before he goes off to school. Jonesy had to play his part as softly as he could. He was fully aware that Slim would be angry that he'd kept the secret from him, but he'd be less angry if Andy were back home safe and sound when it all came out in the wash. Right now there was no telling what Slim might say, much less what he might do. It was bad enough knowing that Jess was out there, in lord knows what, with a very good chance of having made his infection worse. He could be feverishly riding around aimlessly, Jonesy imagined. The old caretaker hoped that Thomas had caught up with Jess and knocked some sense into him. At least getting Jess to soak his foot and put the salve on it as ordered by the doctor. Jonesy figured that at this point, as long as Jess had any of his faculties, he would 't return home until he found Andy or found out that Andy wasn't where they suspected. Even then, Jess might not return if he had any ideas of where to look next.

Maybe Jonesy hadn't known Jess for very long, but over time he'd learned about the cowboy. He found that the Texan could be relentless, stubborn, and determined. The older man admired those qualities in Jess, but they could also be very infuriating to someone looking out for his wellbeing. Jonesy knew that if Thomas found him, the mountain man couldn't make Jess do anything that Jess did not want to do, including doctoring his foot. Jess might relent if the wound was bothering him, but if it weren't, Thomas would have no control over making Jess follow the doctor's instructions or slowing down his pursuit of Andy. Jonesy could only hope that the few times that Jess had conceded to soaking his foot and using the ointment, maybe they'd nipped the infection in the bud. But sadly remembering the way the wound looked the last time Jonesy examined it, he had little hope that the infection had been getting any better.

Jonsey left through the back door to go to the chicken coop to gather eggs for breakfast. Once Slim was awake, he'd be hungry, Jonsey reasoned. It was a good sign, and the ranch foreman wanted to be prepared to make the blonde man a big breakfast. The rancher needed all the strength he could muster over the coming months. It took a long time to mend a broken leg, especially the kind of break Slim had. Jonesy had to keep him well fed and quiet. He had to keep the tall rancher off his feet and his leg elevated for months to come. "And how am I going to do that if Jess doesn't find Andy?" the older man muttered to himself under his breath as he crossed the front yard.

Opening the coop door, the chickens rushed out in a disorderly fashion. After being cooped up for a day they were anxious to get out to scratch around for any bugs and worms that they could find, though they found scratching in the mud not much to their liking. Avoiding stepping on any of them, Jonesy entered the pen and searched the various nests for any eggs and deposited them in his basket. When he found no more, he stepped over and dodged some of the nearest hens as he picked his way through the mud back toward the ranch house.

Before reaching the door he heard someone calling to him. He turned to see Mihail coming across the corral. "Mister Jones, it is I, Mihail. I am here to help with the stage this morning."

Jonesy stopped long enough to nod his head in approval and shout a cantankerous, "Much obliged," with a slight wave of his hand and a tip of his bowler hat before entering the house. At least that problem was solved, he thought to himself, now he wouldn't have to worry about the stage this morning. He wondered what the gypsies were doing about repairing their wagon now that the weather had cleared and how much longer they would be available to help out around the place. Jonesy hated to think that he needed to depend on them for anything, but finally admitted to himself that they were doing the job exactly as they'd promised. His thoughts returned to one of the last arguments he'd had with Andy when the boy pointed out that there were good and bad in all kinds of people. Maybe the boy was right and these were some honorable people from within their kind. But then, he further reasoned, if they were behind Andy's disappearance, then Jonesy felt he would be justified in his feelings about "their kind".

 **Chapter 41**

If Andy had any dreams during the night, he didn't remember anything about them. When he woke, he was sleeping on his back, just as he'd fallen asleep. Exhausted, he'd hardly moved during the night and was a little stiff, either from not moving all night or from the ordeal in the river and trying to get himself out. As he stirred, every muscle pulsed with rhythmic tension and release.

The fire in the fireplace had been stoked and new logs were crackling on the hearth. When someone had tended the fire, Andy had no idea. They must have been extremely quiet to not wake him.

It was the delicious aroma of bacon frying that woke him. Stretching beneath the covers, Andy wiggled around, trying to work out some of the stiffness before sitting up and stretching his arms high over his head, his shoulders and neck aching enough to almost cause him to cry out. His arms felt like he was lifting an anvil.

"Mornin'," the old trapper called from near the stove. "Didn't think ya was gonna wake up anytime t'day."

"No, sir. I'm, I'm sorry I slept so late," Andy said, crawling out from under the blankets but remaining on his hands and knees for a moment before standing up to fold and pick them up. "I'm usually up long before now. Jonesy gets me up right about sunup."

"Jonesy? Your brother?"

"Oh, no, he's kinda like an uncle. He lives with me an' Slim. Kinda takes care of us," Andy replied, putting the folded blankets on a chair near the window.

"An' yer brother?"

"Oh, that's Slim. We live on a ranch outside Laramie. We run the stage stop, run some cattle an' horses there, too."

"I see. An' ya was travelin' back home?" the older man asked.

Trying to keep his story straight, Andy had to think a minute about what he'd already told the trapper and his son. "Ah, yeah. I was visitin' with relatives back east an' comin' back with some friends of theirs when the wagon slipped into the river. I sure hope everyone got out okay," Andy lied, hoping that he sounded convincing.

Running Wolf entered the house carrying two fat rabbits that he'd found in some of the traps. "I reckon we've got supper here, Pa," the teenaged half-breed said proudly, holding up his prizes.

"That all in the traps t'day?" the carrot-top man asked as wrinkles furrowed his brow.

"So far. I didn't git down ta the river yet," Running Wolf said. "I thought Andy might wanna come along t' check those with me, that is if he wants ta go anywheres near the river again," the Indian boy teased as he grinned and winked at Andy.

"Ss, sure. If I don't have to go too near the edge," Andy said as he sank his hands in his pants pockets and grinned back shyly.

"Wolf, git the plates an' set the table. Andy, if ya wanna wash up, there's a pitcher an' bowl o'er thar on that table," the trapper said as he pointed toward a table in the corner with the fork he was using to turn the bacon.

Sitting down to breakfast, the trapper insisted that they hold hands and say a short prayer before eating.

"So Andy, how are we gonna git ya back home?" the trapper asked.

"Um, Mister, ah. Do I call you Mr. Wolf?" Andy asked, seeming a bit confused as to what to call his benefactor.

Laughing the trapper said, "No, no. M' name is Cal. Just Cal is fine. I don't use m' last name out here. I lived with the Kiowa fer a long time an' just don't wanna remember m' old life anymore, so Cal is fine out in these parts. Now Running Wolf, that's the name Golden Bird's people named the boy when he was born. He was born when a pack of wolves was spotted above the camp. He was named in his brother's honor. He is one of them," Cal explained.

"Oh," Andy said with a smile as he dove into his breakfast. "Do you ever go to Laramie? Maybe I could ride there with you?"

"Nope, wrong side o' the river. If we need supplies, we go t' Fort Collins, ta the east. There's no bridge er river crossin's ta go it ta Laramie easy. Been there once when Golden Bird was still here. Took Running Wolf with us, he was just a baby then. We had to git there by goin' through Fort Collins. We kin git anythin' we need in Fort Collins, so no need ta go anywhere else. Don't recall much about Laramie. I was lookin' fer some breedin' stock up thar, but come back empty handed. Kinda glad at that, it was a long trip fer a young mother an' a baby. Drivin' cattle back woulda made it a longer trip. Found out the wife was with child an' after we got back she lost it. No reason ta go back thar. But now ya'all come along, we gotta figure out how we're gonna git ya back home. Unless ya plan on wantin' ta stay on an' learn how ta do some trappin'," Cal said, looking up slyly from his plate.

"Fort Collins?" Andy replied, unable to conceal his excitement. "If ya go to Fort Collins, I could wire my brother to send me some money so I could take the stage home. When do ya think ya might be goin' there?"

"Not anytime soon. Was thar 'bout a month ago fer supplies. Don't need nothin' much now fer quite a while," Cal said while sopping up some egg yolk with a piece of sourdough bread.

"Oh," Andy said softly, the disappointment almost shouted in his voice.

"We go more often when we have many pelts to sell," Running Wolf added, trying to lift Andy's spirit. "Maybe you'll bring us luck an' we'll git enough furs ta haveta go ta town sooner."

"Maybe." Andy responded as his heart sank, wondering if he'd ever see the ranch again. He never thought he'd miss them all so much, Slim, Jonesy and Jess. His mind drifted to the good times they'd had together, remorseful now for ever thinking about running away. He should have tried to persuade Crina to stay at the ranch with him, but he knew that it would have been impossible. Neither Slim nor Jonesy would have allowed the girl to stay at the ranch. Running away was the only way he could be with her. If only she hadn't lied to him. Lies kill trust. He pondered if she might be thinking of him now, wondering if he were dead or alive, and how long the gypsies may have looked for him in the turbulent river. He couldn't believe that they'd give up looking easily and they might still be looking for him. And Slim. Andy was sure that his brother was frantic and well out on the trail searching for him. Slim had to be home by now and Jonesy would have told him about Crina. Andy recognized that his brother was smart enough to figure out that if Crina was gone, that his little brother might have gone away with her. After all, Andy had often expressed his desire to leave the ranch and Slim would understand that Andy would see this as a way to leave. Wouldn't he? Andy speculated.

"Don'tcha think, Andy?" Cal said, giving the boy a nudge, bringing him back to the present.

"Umm, I'm sorry. I wasn't listenin'. Kinda thinkin' how I might be able to get back home."

"So, do ya have any ideas?" Running Wolf asked, taking another slice of bread off the platter in the center of the table.

"I reckon if I could borrow a horse from ya, maybe leave it in Fort Collins for ya to pick up when ya get to town. Like I said, I could wire Slim to get me stage fare home."

"Can't do that," Cal said standing up and picking up his plate to take it to the kitchen and setting it down next to a large tub used for washing dishes. Running Wolf collected his own plate and utensils and took them to the kitchen area, sitting them down on top of his father's dishes. Andy continued to pick at what was left on his own plate sorry that he hadn't eaten as quickly as the others. Gobbling as fast as he could, the boy finished his breakfast and followed suit in taking his dish and cup to set them down along with the other dirty dishes.

"Come, Andy. Let's go ta the river an' check the traps," Running Wolf said as he walked toward the door.

"Here, take the bucket ta the river an' bring me back some water ta wash the dishes," Cal said handing the Indian boy a bucket before he could disappear out the door. Running Wolf delegated the bucket to Andy as the Indian boy reached in the corner near the door to pick up a rifle.

 **Chapter 42**

Things weren't going as Jonesy wished. Slim was awake and calling for him as he entered the house carrying the basket of eggs. Going into Slim's room, Jonesy tried to make light of the coming day, but Slim was determined to talk to his younger brother. "I want to see Andy before he leaves for school. I don't recall seeing him since I've been home. Maybe he sat with me but I don't remember. I really want to talk to him.

Jonesy grabbed the kitchen chair that was sitting in the corner of the room, he figured he finally had to come clean and tell Slim about Andy. Putting the chair next to Slim's bed and about to sit down they heard a knock on the front door. "I'll go get that Slim, then we have to talk."

"About what?" Slim asked, lifting himself up on one elbow, concerned about what the older man appeared to be so somber about.

"In a minute, Slim. I'll be right back," Jonesy replied, glad for the slight reprieve at someone coming to the door. Jonesy opened the front door to find Dragos standing with a brightly painted, handmade stool in his hands.

"Mister Jones," the gypsy leader said with a bright smile. "I have come to see Slim. I was wondering if he might be well enough for me to present him with this little gift. A token of our gratitude for his kindness."

Glad to be spared telling Slim about the happenings at the ranch for a little longer, Jonesy graciously invited the gypsy man into the house. "Yes, Slim's awake. I was about to make him some breakfast. I'm sure he'll be glad to have the company. Would you like some coffee? Maybe some breakfast?" Jonsey said as charmingly as he could muster, considering his unwarranted strong dislike for the gypsy leader.

"Coffee would be fine. I have already had breakfast, thank you," Dragos replied as he entered the house.

Dragos followed the older man as he led him to Slim's room. Opening the bedroom door, Jonesy said, "Slim, you have company. I'll let you two talk while I make some coffee and rustle up your breakfast."

Slim pulled himself up into a more sitting position as the smiling gypsy man entered the room. Jonesy left them alone, closing the door behind him and hurried to the kitchen.

The coffee was brewing and Jonesy was slicing bacon when the roar of Slim's voice exploded from the bedroom, "JONESY! JONESY, GET IN HERE." The old caretaker almost took his finger off with the knife, startled so by Slim's mountain lion-grizzly bear roar that rattled the house. Setting down the knife and picking up a towel to wipe his hands of the grease from the bacon, Jonesy looked heavenward searching for some of his own pilfered pearls of wisdom. Composing himself, straightening first his apron then his bowler a bit lower over his ears and brow, Jonesy took a deep breath and flew as fast as he could to Slim's room.

Dragos was standing with his hand on the doorknob when the door flew open, nearly knocking him over as Jonsey pushed his way into the room, not knowing what to expect when he entered. Stepping aside, Dragos apologized before ducking around Jonesy, "I will let myself out. I am so sorry. I did not know that Slim did not know." The gypsy man said as he quickly left the room. Jonesy turned to face Slim. The color had completely drained from the older man's face, while the face of the younger man in the bed was red with rage.

"Dragos asked about Andy. He said Andy's missing. What's this all about, Jonesy? What are you keeping from me, and why?" the upset, beet-red rancher demanded. Inflamed with rage, Slim struggled to sit up and throw his leg over the side of the bed.

"Now keep still, Slim. I, I, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Let me explain. Lie back boy, you'll only hurt yourself again. I'll tell you everything. Just calm down," the older man soothed, fussing around the younger man, forcing the rancher to settle back into the pillows. Pulling the blankets up to Slim's armpits. Jonesy realized that he was unable to hide things any longer and decided he'd better do his best to let Slim know everything that had been transpiring, as well as his suspicions.

"This better be good, Jonesy," Slim warned, a cutting edge to his voice and a no nonsense look on his face. The older man backed off, not wanting to be anywhere within the younger man's reach until he was done telling his story.

"Okay, Slim. I reckon I knew I'd have to come clean and tell you about what's been going on around here sooner or later. I really was planning on telling you today, just a little later on. We, me and Jess, we didn't want to worry you while you were so sick, and I really wish I didn't have to tell you now, but I reckon I have no other choice. Now you just settle back and don't get excited. It's all under control, so just settle back," Jonesy said, wanting to fuss a little more over the tall man's blankets and pillows, but figured it would be futile and only a stalling tactic that Slim wouldn't stand for any longer. Sighing and taking a rather long pause, Jonesy decided to sit down in the chair. He removed his bowler hat and nervously fidgeted with it.

"Out with it, Jonesy," Slim growled, not wanting to be kept in the dark any longer.

"You remember what I told you about Andy spending so much time with that gypsy girl?" Jonesy began, shifting uneasily in the chair.

"Yeah," Slim replied, his interest suspiciously peaking but wondering what the girl had to do with Andy's turning up missing.

"Well Andy's disappeared."

"I got that from Dragos. Now what do you mean by disappeared?" Slim persised, as he pulled himself up into a more upright position, worrying Jonesy that the rancher might try to get out of the bed again.

"Please, settle down Slim. It won't do you any good to hurt yourself again. Jess is taking care of things and he has Thomas to help him. We think Andy might've run off with that gypsy girl. Crina, I think that's her name."

"Why didn't Dragos tell me that? Why did he ask me if I heard anything about him? If he knew about Andy running off with the others…" Slim snapped, the rage, frustration, and confusion showing in the redness of his face and ears.

"According to Jess, Dragos doesn't know anything about it. Dragos is still here with his broken wagon and the rest of the caravan moved on. Maybe Andy was with them or followed them after they left, so Dragos wouldn't know. I can't say."

"Andy wouldn't do that," Slim declared, unable to look Jonesy square in the face, he'd never been so angry with the older man.

"Oh, I think he did. He left for school that morning, but how he got to the camp, we don't know. Jess found out that Andy wasn't in school that day. I have a feeling that the girl met him in town and took him out to the camp to leave with them that morning. I can't say for sure, but that's what I'm thinking," the older man said as he fussed around Slim, again fluffing his pillows and being sure that the blankets were pulled up to his chin.

Slim pushed the covers back down to his waist, causing Jonesy to flinch, as he asked, "Now why would Andy do that?"

"The girl." Jonesy replied with a frown as he sat back down in the chair. "I'm sure it was the girl. Slim, you've got to see that Andy's not a little boy anymore. He's growing up and that girl was, well, from what I could see, a little forward if you know what I mean, and maybe she led Andy astray, promising him… a, a lot. I fear about what she might've said and promised and what they might've done already. I just don't trust that girl. Why after finding the two of them all wrapped up in each other at the fishing hole, I don't know what all went on out there. And if anything did go on, it might be enough to convince Andy to follow her."

"I don't believe it. Andy knows better. He's been real shy around girls….." Slim insisted, trying to deny that his little brother was really growing up as Jonesy pointed out.

"I agree that he's been shy around girls," Jonesy concurred "but you weren't here to see the goings on. I was. He'd disappear for hours. I don't know what was going on for sure, but that girl was putting some kind of a spell on him. You know that gypsies do that, Slim. I think that girl put a spell on him," the older man said with conviction and a knowing nod of his head and wink of his eye.

"Oh, Jonesy, that's a lot of talk, spells and such. That just doesn't happen." Slim replied with some impatience and a humorless smile.

"You can believe what you want, Slim, but you weren't here. I never saw such disrespect from that boy in all my years. His sneaking off and all," Jonesy said obtinately, wishing this was all a bad nightmare and that he'd be waking up real soon.

"Okay, so maybe you're right, maybe he was infatuated with the girl and followed her. I'm sure they'd send him back."

"I don't know, Slim. I've heard stories…" the older man started to say but was cut off by the blonde rancher.

"And that's it, Jonesy, just stories. You know how we hear things about the Indians around here and then find out that that's all they are is tall tales."

"Big difference, Slim. Andy's gone. I believe they took him with them. If not, he's followed after that girl. I tell you, she's bewitched him," Jonesy persisted, emphasizing his statement with a shake of his index finger.

"So, Jess went to find him? I reckon he'll find Andy if he's with those folks. I just can't believe that they wouldn't send him back."

"Believe what you want, but I've heard stories about gypsies stealing children."

"And Indians stealing children, and how about the one about all men who wear bowler hats are card sharks and piano players?" Slim's said scornfully, his clear blue eyes staring a hole through the older man, no longer wanting to argue folklore.

"All right, Slim, point taken, you're only half right. But…."

"If Andy did follow," Slim interrupted, "Jess'll bring him back," he said with confidence. "Jonesy, why didn't you tell me any of this before. Why did you lie to me?"

"I, I, I didn't lie to you, Slim. I, I ," Jonesy stammered, then paused, "I just stretched the fatcs a mite," he continued, getting a frown from his boss. "Okay, I reckon it was a lie. But we didn't want to worry you until you were stronger. We were hoping that Andy would be back before you missed him. I'm real sorry Slim, I really am."

"Have you heard anything from Jess?"

"That's another thing. Jess is hurt. He's probably running a fever by now," Jonesy revealed, sadly shaking his head.

"What?" Slim exploded, throwing back his blankets and sitting up taller in the bed, only to have Jonesy quickly stand up and tuck them back around the tall man's body, pushing him back against the fluffed pillows.

Jonsey filled Slim in about the infection that Jess was fighting, how he'd gone off on his own and how Thomas was out looking to catch up with Jess to be sure that the stubborn cowboy was okay and to help him find Andy. Jonesy didn't want to get into the possibility that they could be wrong and Andy might not be with the gypsies and that there could be some other factor involved in his disappearance. The older man did his best to assure Slim that as bad as things appeared, they were under control and that Jess and Thomas would return shortly with the errant boy in tow. At least that was what Jonesy was praying.

"Jonesy, I don't understand why you didn't tell me this sooner," Slim said, still perturbed but in a calmer voice.

"When you got hurt, we didn't know Andy was missing. When the stage came and went, we still didn't realize it. We were so busy with you and the doc and all. When things settled down, well, that's when we noticed he didn't come home. Jess rode out to the Bradley's place to see if Andy went home with them, maybe missed the stage or something, and that's when we found out that he hadn't been in school. By then you were out of your head and with one thing and another, it was easier to not worry you about things until we knew something for sure. Everything pointed to the boy running off with those gypsies. They left that same morning. If he followed them, no wonder Dragos wouldn't know, though I don't know if I really trust him, either," Jonesy said, shaking his head and suddenly sniffing the air. "I reckon the coffee's burnt by now. I'll go make a fresh pot and get you your breakfast. We'll talk more over breakfast. Now stop worrying. Jess will find him. Now that the rain has stopped, he should catch up with them real soon," Jonesy said as he patted Slim's shoulder before leaving the room to proceed to the kitchen and back to preparing their breakfast.

 **Chapter 43**

The sun to his back felt good to the mountain man as he continued to follow the swath of grazed and trampled grassland the flock of sheep had cut. It was an easy path to follow. Even now, the light breeze and warmth of the sun had caused some of the water to dissipate from the tracks left by the young cowboy's horse. Thomas only occasionally glanced down looking for the tracks left by Jess' horse knowing that the Texan was following the wide route left by the traveling caravan and their animals.

The mud was still deep enough that going faster than a walk worried the old-timer that his horse might pull a tendon or throw a shoe if he pushed him too hard. He wished that he could make better time and catch up with Jess, but the conditions were much too poor to chance it.

Reaching into the supply bag hanging from his pommel, Thomas pulled out a ripe, juicy apple to snack on as he rode. He hoped that it would keep him until he caught up with Jess and then they could find wood to build a fire and have a real meal, hot coffee. Warmed food would do them both some good. The additional canteens were full again after he left the riverside. There would be plenty of water to heat and force Jess to soak his injured foot. Thomas was worried about the young Texan and his disregard for caring for his festering wound. During the war, the mountaineer had seen men lose their legs over such wounds. What little knowledge he had about Jess, he could already see that such a tragic event in the young man's life would destroy him. Jess had to know what he was doing to himself by ignoring the instructions he'd been given for caring for his wound and subsequent infection. Thomas could understand Jess' concern over Andy's disappearance, but what good would he be to anyone if he ended up killing himself by neglecting to take care of himself. Finishing the meat of the apple, Thomas leaned forward, "Here, horse," he said as he offered the core to his mount. Reaching around, the gelding plucked it from the big man's hand and happily crunched at it, skillfully juggling the tasty morsel with his tongue around the mouthpiece of the bit.

Onward, the mountaineer continued on his mission, ever searching the horizon for a lone rider or the possibility of spotting the gypsy wagons, either camped or on the slow move. The sheep had to be following the wagons since he saw very few ruts in the trampled grass. The hooves of the animals had erased almost all signs of wagons having passed through the area. Surely a large flock of white animals in all the greenness would be easy to spot from miles away, the old-timer concluded.

The sun was now overhead and Thomas' stomach was starting to complain that an apple was not enough to keep it satisfied. He was thinking he'd have to breakdown and look for a place to make a quick camp. He really wanted a hot cup of coffee, even if he only ate cold meat to hold him. Suddenly, ahead of him, Thomas noticed what looked like could be a lone, riderless horse in the distance. It was only a remote dark shape, conceivably only a stray steer or a wild horse away from its herd. With any kind of luck, Thomas thought, it would be Jess' horse. But then, where was Jess, the mountain man wondered as he felt sudden anxiety grasping him. With mixed emotions for the prospects, Thomas urged his horse on as quickly as he felt was safe for the animal, which was not anywhere near as fast as he wished he could travel.

As the mountaineer rode closer to the mystery animal, he recognized that it was definitely a horse, but the color was still not discernible, only that it was dark. 'Jess' horse could look that dark from this distance,' he thought. As he got closer he identified, at last, that it was a bay horse, much like the one Jess rode. A smile first crossed his lips, but it soon turned into frown as he realized that he saw no signs of the cowboy. At least the saddle was removed from the animal's back leading Thomas to believe that it was a good sign and Jess was somewhere close by.

Thomas noticed the rocky ledge and the prospect of cover it would have presented to a traveler on a rainy night. Rather than heading toward the bay horse the mountaineer moved toward the overhang as the horses nickered a greeting in recognition of each other.

Climbing down from the big sorrel, Thomas put his hand to the rocks above his head and squinted to look into the relative darkness under the ledge. When his eyes adjusted enough he could see a prone body, against where the rocks created a corner, wrapped in a blanket. Ducking down to clear the overhang, he shuffled along until he could no longer remain on his feet, then got down on his hands and knees to reach the spot where Jess lay with his back to him.

Reaching out to touch the Texan brought a rush of panic to the old man. No sooner than he'd made contact he found himself facing a fully cocked .45 only inches from his nose. "A, a, a," the old-timer stammered, "it's jest me Jess, Thomas. I come lookin' fer ya."

Slowly and shakily, Jess laid the hammer to rest as he lowered his revolver. "Thomas," he breathed weakly as he relaxed and sank back into the blanket to lie on his back. "What are ya doin' here?"

"I tole ya, lookin' fer ya. Jonesy sent me. Jess, I gotta tell ya, ya look like hell."

"Yeah. Feel that way. Hot 'n cold all at the same time. Head hurts."

"Sure looks like ya got a fever, all that sweat runnin' down yer face. Jonesy sent yer doctorin' stuff an' some medicine, too. An' I got lotsa vittles fer us, too," Thomas said with a big grin. "Now ya gotta take it easy. I'm gonna go look fer some wood. I got coffee an' meat an' all kinds of stuff. Jonesy sent the pan ta soak yer foot an' give me orders ta make sure ya do that an' I aim ta do jest that. No arguments, okay?" Thomas said, almost apologetically.

"Yeah, Thomas. I reckon I'm not in much condition to fight with ya," Jess said, throwing his forearm across his aching head.

"I got that medicine in the saddle bags. I'll bring it ta ya before I go searchin' fer wood. Maybe it'll make ya feel better. Jonesy says it's good fer fever an' it sure looks like yer runnin' a real fire in that head of yers an' I'd bet my gole pocket watch that yer foot's on fire, too."

"Jonesy's witch's brew? That stuff will kill ya or cure ya. I reckon I could go either way right about now. Worth a try, I reckon," Jess said, turning back on his side, finding that lying on his back tended to make his foot and leg ache more. Even being slightly elevated alleviated some of the pain.

"Be right back," Thomas said as he turned to creep back out from under the rugged sanctuary. In a few minutes he was back and deposited the brown bottle with Jess, then left again.

Jess leaned on one elbow and picked up Jonesy's fever medicine. The first swallow gagged him and almost seemed to fuel the fever to raging. The second swallow was just down right awful, 'sinful,' Jess thought. With the third swallow, it had almost become bearable, but then he probably wouldn't be able to taste much of anything for the rest of the day.

"How ya feelin' now?" Thomas inquired as he crept back under the ledge later to check on Jess. He'd built a fire and had the coffee pot sitting safely on a rock within the flames to heat.

"Hurtin'. I reckon that soak might do my foot some good. It made it feel better back at the ranch. Just wish my head would quit poundin'. I think Jonesy's medicine helped some though. I don't feel as shaky now." Jess replied as he sat up and rolled to his knees to try and crawl out from under the ledge.

The old mountaineer did his best to assist Jess out from under the rocky crag. Once standing, Jess could barely put his sore foot on the ground. Thomas put his arm around the younger man's waist, and helped him to the campfire that was sending up a pillar of white smoke. Jess squinted up at the tall column and Thomas said, "Wet wood."

"Yeah, everything's wet after that storm. So glad it's over. Maybe we can catch up with the gypsies today."

"Ya sure don't look like ya should be ridin' much, Jess," the older man observed as he aided Jess to be seated near the fire and away from where the wind might blow smoke in his direction. "After coffee an' food, we gotta take care of yer foot. Jonesy said so," Thomas added quickly, wanting it to be known that it wasn't his idea; he was only following orders.

After checking the contents in the coffee pot and deciding it needed a little more brewing, Thomas said, "I reckon we oughta git a good look at yer foot while we're waitin'." The bearded man moved toward where Jess was seated and made a grab for the cowboy's boot. Jess let out a yelp, surprised at the pain he felt as the older man lifted up his leg to work at removing the boot. "Oh, sorry, Jess. Didn't mean ta cause ya no pain. Only tryin' ta help ya out," Thomas apologized, truly sorry that he'd caused Jess enough pain for him to cry out. "Now easy, we'll try this again," the mountain man said, this time gingerly lifting Jess' leg and giving an easy tug on the boot.

Jess gritted his teeth against the pain as he pulled back and away from the pressure of his boot. It wasn't giving, only causing the pain to shoot up higher in his leg. Now it was reaching above his knee.

"Ain't budgin'," Thomas said, now his back to Jess, straddling the cowboy's leg as he gently pulled at the boot. "Hate ta say it, Jess, but I reckon we're gonna haveta cut the boot off."

"NO!" Jess shouted, putting his other foot up on Thomas' behind and pushing the man away with it, hoping the extra leverage would cause the boot to slide off.

Setting Jess' leg down easily, Thomas resignedly said, "Jess, it ain't gonna come off. We gotta git it off. Swellin' up inside thar ain't no good. I'll git m' knife," Ryan said as he walked to where his horse stood and pulled a hunting knife out from the saddle bags along with the soaking salts, ointment and gauze pads then fished in the supply sack for the soaking pan.

"Ya can't cut off my boot, Thomas. How can I ride?" Jess argued, as he wiggled to get back into a good, comfortable sitting position.

"Ya ain't gonna do much ridin' if yer dead. Yer sorry carcass draped ov'r the saddle like a sack o' flour," the older man responded sarcastically as he settled down next to Jess, looking over the boot and how he was going to tackle cutting away at it without injuring the young man. "Iffin it don't kill ya, ya could lose a leg, bein' so stubborn. I jest hope it ain't already too late. Now be still. I don't wanna cut ya."

"If you're real careful n' cut along the seams, maybe I can get it sewed back up again, " Jess said anxiously. "Thomas, these are my new boots n' I just got 'em broke in real good…."

"Jest sit back. I'll see what I kin do," the mountain man interrupted. "Seems like yer more worried 'bout yer boot than losin' yer leg," Thomas said, shaking his head as he set to working at the leather as gently as he could, sawing away at it a little at a time. At the bearded man's mercy, Jess gave up on his argument. He perceived that he had no control over the situation and he'd have to depend on Thomas doing what was necessary, even if it meant losing a perfectly good boot.

Jess gritted his teeth often as the older man had to maneuver his foot and leg a few times for a better angle or way to avoid the knife coming in contact with the younger man's skin. He hadn't gotten very far when Jess said, "Can't we take a break. The coffee's gotta be done by now an' I ain't had nothin' to eat since yesterday. I'm hungry."

Looking up from his work, Thomas studied Jess' face for a moment then decided that the cowhand was right, the coffee would be too strong or even burn if they didn't take the time to drink it now. "Okay, I reckon yer right," he agreed, carefully putting Jess' leg down to rest on the ground. He then went to the sack of food, pulling out some of the cooked pork, handing some to Jess. "Want it warmed up?"

"Nah, this is fine," Jess said, before quickly taking a bite off the dried chop. He recognized that he was hungry, but didn't realize how much so. The fever had curbed his hunger some, but feeling a little better now, he became aware of how empty his stomach felt. The growling bear in the pit of his stomach was soothed, at last.

Thomas pulled out two tin cups and offered one to Jess before reaching for the pot to pour them each some of the piping hot drink. Jess smiled after his first sip, "Right good coffee ya make, Thomas. I'm thinkin' I feel better already."

"Lotsa practice," the older man beamed. "Always bin a favorite of mine, so I reckon I learned ta do it right."

"That ya did," Jess said, smiling again as he raised his cup to Thomas as the mountaineer sat down.

"Ya know Jess, we don't know what we're gonna find once we git that boot off. An' like ya said, it's gonna be hard ridin' with only one boot. I kin fashion ya somethin' ta cover yer foot, but it won't be much good fer much ridin'. I think it's time ya thought about goin' back home. I'll follow the trail an' look fer the boy."

"That's kind of ya, Thomas, but I got this far, I'm gonna keep goin'. I gotta find Andy. I owe Slim that much," Jess said as he tried to get more comfortable.

"If ya don't take care of yer leg now, ya could lose it," the older man said bluntly.

"I don't care if I lose my leg, Thomas. I gotta find Andy. I told ya, I owe Slim that much," Jess responded, the ire noticeable in his husky voice.

"And do ya think losin' your leg will be alright with Slim? How 'bout yer life?" Thomas countered, staring hard at the younger man, determined to not allow Jess to win the battle.

"Then to hell with Slim," Jess said angrily, then added in almost a whisper, "I owe it to Andy. If it weren't for him…" Jess' voice trailed off softly, the pain of everything that had transpired was welling up to engulf him. "If it weren't for Andy I'd still be on the drift or worse. Maybe dead by now the way my life was goin'. I owe both Andy n' Slim a lot. You don't understand, Thomas," Jess insisted.

"Oh, I reckon I understand far more than ya think, I do, boy," Ryan said as he reached into the sack to pull out a couple more chops, handing one to Jess who eagerly reached for it. "I rode with ya both long enough, almost thought ya were brothers, not boss an' ranch hand. Ain't met the boy, but I know that ya feel like he's family, too. I can't stop ya from goin' on, Jess, but I wish ya'd let me do it fer ya. I owe ya my life, ya know," Thomas said, reaching toward Jess to pat him on his good leg. "More coffee? I need ta use the pot ta heat yer water ta soak in."

"Yeah, don't toss it out," Jess responded eagerly as he raised his cup for the older man to pour him more of the rejuvenating liquid. Taking a quick gulp, Jess then held the cup out for the mountaineer to top it off once more. The last from the pot was then poured into Thomas' own cup. Thomas rinsed out the pot by swishing around a little water from a canteen then filled it with fresh water and set it back on the fire to heat.

"Well, let's git back ta that boot," Thomas said as he seated himself next to Jess' bad foot and started working at cutting away the remaining part of the boot. No longer able to sit up in one position, Jess leaned back and tried to relax while Thomas worked at cutting the leather away, only flinching occasionally when the knife put pressure on a sensitive area. Finally after nearly a half hour, Ryan peeled away the last of the boot.

Jess sat up curious to see how bad his foot and leg was swollen. It wasn't nearly as bad as he expected, but then, the boot had restricted the swelling. "It don't look so bad," he declared, as the mountain man removed the sock, but the mountain man didn't respond, only shook his head, not pleased with what he saw.

Thomas got the pan and poured some hot water into it then took some of the salts and swished them around until they were dissolved, then added more hot water and more from the canteen to cool it some. Dipping his finger in the solution, he decided that it was a too hot, so he added a bit more from the canteen before setting it down in front of Jess. "Do ya think ya kin soak it here, or should we git ya up on a rock?"

"If ya help me, I can do it from here," Jess said, lifting his leg with his hands toward the pan, the movement bringing pain as well as some dizziness and he was becoming nauseated.

"Feel it first, Jess. It might be too hot," the bearded man warned

"Oh, yeah," Jess said, putting his foot down on the heel as he inched closer to the pan to feel the temperature with a finger. "I reckon it should be okay. I'll try it. Just give me the canteen. I'll add some if I need it."

"No, I'll add it," Thomas replied. "You'll add it too fast. It's gotta be hot Jonesy said."

"Yeah, but you're not suppose to cook it!" Jess exclaimed.

"Jest be grateful it ain't turned black on ya," Thomas said dryly as he stooped to help Jess put his injured foot in the bronze colored pan, truly amazed and thankful for that one small prayer answered.

Between the two men, Jess finally had his foot soaking in the soothing bath. Jonesy would be pleased. Thomas thought about the fussing, worried old caretaker back at the ranch and smiled. One small part of the mountain man's mission was accomplished, and he knew it wouldn't get any easier. The dark-haired cowboy beside him was not going to be easily reckoned with. It was going to be a long hard journey, if not eaten by time, it would weigh heavily in frustration for the older man. He could feel it in his bones, but he had determination. This young Texan saved his life and Thomas Ryan was resolved that he would repay his debt.

 **Chapter 44**

Andy followed Running Wolf to the river where he watched the Indian boy beat a beautifully furred gray fox to death with the club that he'd picked up on their way. It broke Andy's heart to watch the trapped, defenseless animal be bludgeoned as it struggled to get away and the trap held tight to it's bloodied leg. Once the animal was either dead or unable to fight back, the boy plunged his knife into the animal's neck and left him to bleed out as he went to check the next trap.

At the next trap, the two boys found a very young raccoon crying in pain, as the claw of the steel trap dug deep into her hind foot, holding her tight as she struggled to get away. Again Running Wolf used the wooden club to beat the animal to death. "Why do you do that?" Andy asked. "Why do you have a rifle if you're not going to shoot them clean an' put 'em outta their misery?"

The Indian boy looked down at the rifle lying on the ground then back at Andy, "We don't shoot the animals in the traps, it'll ruin the pelts. Oh, a bear or wolf, or even a deer or antelope, I'll shoot, those that kin hurt me if I try ta beat 'em. Mostly I carry the gun fer rattlesnakes or fer the bear or wolf who might smell blood an' come ta eat at the traps."

Andy had hunted with his brother in the past. It wasn't one of his favorite things to do, but it had always been an animal that would be used for food on the table or some renegade wolf or bear killing the livestock. The creatures that Running Wolf was killing were the kind of animals that Andy rescued and made into a pet or kept them until they were healed and could be returned to the wild. "That little raccoon, he couldn't be much of a pelt. Why'd you have to…" Andy asked as his voice trailed off and he felt his stomach starting to churn at what he'd experienced.

"Can't waste any bullets," Running Wolf explained. "We can't afford t' go t' town unless we have a full wagon of pelts. If I use up our supply of bullets an' we haveta go ta town before the wagon is full, it's a wasted trip. Pa wouldn't be happy if he thought I was wasting our supplies. 'Sides, they're just animals, they don't have no feelin's."

The youngster had to turn his head away. He knew better. In the past he'd seen, and could now see again, the suffering these animals were feeling with their legs caught in the steel jaws of the cruel traps. How often had Andy heard an animal crying out in pain when injured at the ranch and he'd go to their rescue, seeing the pain in their eyes. The cries of the little raccoon should have shown Running Wolf that the animal was obviously scared and hurting, but the Indian boy seemed to not see it, or not to care.

Andy hadn't run into many of the evil traps on the ranch. He was glad that his father and brother had never believed in them, other than for wolves or bear that might be raiding the ranch herds that eluded the hunt. When they'd gone hunting, if he or Slim ran into a small animal trap they'd use a stick or rock to spring it and take the trap home to bury it, sparing some animal a cruel death. Now, he was unable to do that, he was in the midst of people who trapped animals to stay alive. It was their way of life and they had no more feeling for the creatures they killed than someone stepping on a pesky insect. The boy recognized that trappers existed, made a living at killing the animals they'd trapped, but he'd never met any or realized how they went about their trade. It made him sick to his stomach to come to the realization of their cruelty to another living being.

Running Wolf continued on to check the trap line, but Andy had to turn away and run back toward the little cabin as he wiped a tear from his cheek. He felt as trapped as the little animals that were awaiting their fate as the Indian boy walked along the river to check the various set traps. "Why did I ever leave the ranch?" he muttered to himself as he went past the shack and into the woods where he threw up his breakfast against a tree, much to his shame. He couldn't bear the life he'd found himself entangled in and didn't know how he could survive until the trapper and his son were ready to take him to Fort Collins. His heart was breaking, knowing the torture and fear that the animals in the trap line were experiencing this morning and would for as long as the pair lived there and the animals came to the river to drink.

After he was through retching, his stomach now empty, Andy stumbled to the back of the cabin and sat down on the stump used as a chopping block. As his stomach recovered, he felt the need to exert himself. Picking up the axe, the boy started chopping away at the pieces of wood, working off some of the frustration he felt at being unable to stop the torture, suffering and mindless killing that was going on down at the river. Before long he had a good pile of firewood split and he was profusely sweating, almost exhausted from his futile exercise. With a wipe of the back of his hand, Andy swept away the sweat from his brow before leaning against the chopping block and looking toward the river.

Cal stood at the window, pleased to see the hard working boy doing one of the morning chores without being asked, 'He'll work out just fine around here. We sure kin use the help,' the old trapper thought to himself. The door opened behind him as the Indian boy entered the house. "How'd we do?" Cal asked his son.

"A few furs," the boy responded. "They're in the shed fer us ta skin later. I reckon that Andy ain't got no stomach fer trappin'. He ran off at the second trap, askin' why I didn't shoot the critters. Seems like he wanted ta shoot 'em, thinks they have feelin's er somethin'."

"Some folks is like that," Cal said, shaking his head as he joined his son to sit at the table, pouring them each some milk from a pitcher he'd set on the table before observing Andy's industrious chopping. "He's out thar choppin' some firewood. I reckon if he can't help with the trappin' an' killin', meybe he kin help us with the skinnin' an' curin'. We'll toughen 'im up. Said he lived on a ranch. Some ranch if they kept all the cattle an' such as pets," Cal said with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"We plannin' on keepin' 'im, Pa?" the teen boy inquired.

"At least fer a while, I reckon. If'n his folks come lookin' fer 'im, we'll haveta let 'im go, I suppose. If we kin keep 'im here long enough before we haveta go ta the city, maybe he'll feel obligated ta stay. Three of us kin cure more skins an' set more traps. If he stays, we'll haveta git more traps an' scatter 'em in the woods. I know the river is the best line, but we kin try an' see if'n we have any luck out thar in them woods. Meybe bigger traps an' kin afford more rounds ta go fer more bear an' wolf. Might even git us a few more deer fer eatin', too," the trapper said with an craggy toothed grin.

"If'n he stays," Running Wolf said, "that means we'll need more food, too."

"Yeah, but if'n the boy isn't a trapper, meybe he's a hunter. Meybe he ain't opposed ta killin' a deer. He ate that bacon at breakfast just fine, so he eats meat. Must git his meat from somewhere. Thar's folks in town that eat meat an' go huntin' but hates us trappers. I reckon he might be one of 'em. He's young. Meybe we kin win 'em over. Jest let me work on 'im."

Andy came through the door of the cabin to find the two trappers sitting at the table drinking milk. "Howdy, boy. Some milk?" Cal offered, as he raised his tin cup to Andy.

"Nnn, no. Maybe later," Andy responded, his stomach still queasy, as he stood near the door, not sure exactly where he wanted to go or do.

"Saw ya choppin' at the wood. Ya done a good job, much obliged. Wolf, here, says ya ain't much into trappin' an' killin'," Cal said as he studied Andy to see his response. At the words trappin' an killin', Andy hung his head and Cal was no longer able to read the boy's eyes, but his posture gave away his disapproval of the trapper's lifestyle. "I kin understand, Andy. Really, I kin," the trapper said as sincerely as he could gather. "We all have chores ta do 'round here. I reckon we kin find some fer ya ta help out. Yer good at choppin' wood, we need some every mornin' an' as the cold weather gits here. We'll need more than ya kin chop by yerself, I'm sure. We kin make that yer chore an' when the weather turns, me er Wolf, here, kin help ya." Allowing the idea of being the household wood chopper settle into the boy's head, Cal then asked, "How do ya feel about huntin'?" feeling the boy out.

"Oh, I go huntin' with my brother for deer an' antelope an' elk back at the ranch. Even went for bear a few times," Andy responded with little enthusiasm.

Pushing away from the table, Cal stood up and walked to where Andy stood and put his hand on his shoulder, "Then I reckon ya kin be the hunter here in the family. A lot of the animals we trap, we don't eat. Use 'em fer bait fer bigger trappin', bears, wolves, coyote, an' fox. How would ya like ta be the one ta put food on our table?" Cal solicited, trying to be encouraging that he'd found a suitable job for the stray boy that his son had found.

Not especially happy with the prospect, Andy felt that it was the better option; at least the animals had half a chance to get away. Nodding his head slowly in agreement Andy accepted the proposal, after all, they did have to eat to survive. Back at the ranch there was always some form of meat on the table. He never really gave much thought to their source, at the time, but now it was foremost on his mind, those animals had given their lives for him to eat. It wasn't a comforting thought to the boy who loved and cared for all living creatures, but he realized that it was something beyond his control. At least, if he had to contribute to the lives and welfare of his benefactors out here in the middle of nowhere, at least the animals he'd have to kill would have a fair chance, unlike the creatures that he'd seen beaten to death by Running Wolf that morning. Andy reckoned he'd never be able to do anything like that and he shuddered at the thought.

"How're ya at skinnin' critters?" Cal pressed on, feeling the boy out to see what other chores he could push him into. The shoulder of the boy, under the trapper's hand, went rigid, a sure sign that Andy wasn't near ready for that task, at least, not yet. "Okay," the old trapper said, "then me an' Wolf will do that chore. Ya kin be our woodchopper an' deer hunter. How's that?"

Andy nodded his head, not feeling that he had much of a choice in the matter, then walked to the stool next to the fireplace and sat down. The sadness that surrounded the boy brought a visible chill into the room. Running Wolf fidgeted at the table, unable to think of any words of comfort for the other boy. Trapping had been all the Indian boy knew, raised to it since he was very small. It puzzled him at how uncomfortable it made Andy to see how the animals were disposed of in order to have viable furs to sell in town. The Indian boy rose from his chair and walked to the corner where the rifle stood against the wall. Picking it up, the Indian boy carried it to where Andy sat almost collapsed upon himself. Reaching out with the rifle, Running Wolf said, "Here. Since yer the hunter now, you should carry the rifle."

Andy looked up at the other boy, his eyes laden with sorrow as he slowly reached out to receive the long gun. He leaned it against his body in the crook of his arm, but never spoke or acknowledged the acceptance. Looking into Running Wolf's eyes, Andy searched for a glimmer of compassion, but found only a very dim spark. He was aware that the compassion was for him, not for any of the animals that the boy had been killing for most of his life. To Running Wolf the animals were there for their profit and neither he nor his father saw any joy in them other than when they were found in their traps and in good enough shape for them to skin and sell their furs. Sure, the rabbits and some of the other game would be used for food, but the majority of the meat was tossed out for bait to lure in larger game, or, in most cases, went to the birds to scavenge.

Cal was proud of his son to have handed over his prized rifle to the new member of their family, but said, "You'll need it t' check the trap lines, son. Andy kin hunt between line checks. Ya kin take 'im out where we see the deer run. Wish we could bait 'em, but nothin' we got here ta spare fer 'em t' eat up. Andy, we got pheasant an' turkey out thar in them thickets, too. We'd sure love ta have some of 'em ta put on the table, mmmm mmmm. Makes m' mouth water jest thinkin' of 'em," Cal said as a gleam came to his crooked eye. It had been a long time since they took the time out to hunt for game. Most of their table food consisted of rabbit, pork, or what beef they had when a milk cow was no longer of use to them. Cal had just recently bought a young Hereford heifer to hopefully raise some calves from, when he could purchase a bull on his next trip to Fort Collins.

"How're ya at milkin' cows?" Cal asked the disgruntled boy.

"I can do that," Andy replied, again with little inspiration. "I saw the milk cow in the lean-to along with the white face an' pigs. I can take care of all of 'em," the boy said showing a little more enthusiasm.

"Good," Cal said, walking to the boy and grinning down at him, "then it looks like yer chores are all set. I think you'll work out here jest fine."

Warily Andy looked up at the man. He didn't like the sound of finality in what the man said. Andy hoped that he wasn't reading more into what he felt the words meant. He was counting on going to Fort Collins with the pair as soon as they had enough skins to make their trip worthwhile. He hoped that Cal only meant that he was assigning him chores only until that time. "When do ya think we'll be goin' to Fort Collins," Andy had to ask, trying to feel out what the man really meant. He surely didn't want to have to stay with the trappers for any longer than necessary. He wanted to go home.

"I tole ya, as soon as the wagon's loaded with skins. Now, if'n ya wanna help us with the skinnin' an' curin', meybe we'd have that wagon loaded up a lot sooner," Cal said, peeking out from his lowered brow to watch the reaction from the teen boy.

"I, I reckon I've got enough chores for now," Andy said uneasily. "It kinda frees y'all up to do that a little more with those skins, don'tcha think?" he added hopefully.

"I reckon," Cal muttered, trying hard not to hide his disappointment. He was hoping that the boy would be eager enough to get to the city that he'd give a hand with the dead animals that were accumulating in the shed, in need of skinning and curing their pelts. "Wolf, you go out to the shed an' start skinnin' them critters. I'm gonna take Andy out an' show 'im them deer runs, m'self, I reckon. I don't want ya out there playin' when thar's work here ta be done. Come on, boy," Cal said, pulling Andy to his feet. "Let's take that thar rifle an' go for a li'l walk. Wolf has his work ta do for now. I need ta check over the ridge, anyway. We git a wagon train comin' through that valley from time t' time; might be able t' sell 'em some skins."

"Wagon train?" suddenly Andy's demeanor changed as he showed some excitement. "Are they goin' to Fort Collins," he asked with a spark of hope.

"Nope, mostly comin' from that way, headed west," Cal told the disappointed boy.

"But, sometimes, aren't folks headin' to Fort Collins?" again hope rose in the teen's voice.

"Come on, boy," Cal said as he lightly pushed Andy along toward the door, "we kin talk while we go t' the deer run." Following after Running Wolf and Cal, Andy left the house. The Indian boy headed toward the shed to the east of the house and near the woods while Cal led Andy to the south. Eventually they came to a slight incline that ended in a ledge looking down into a narrow valley. It was a perfect pass through the rolling grassy hills that surrounded the area.

Cal looked up and down the passage for any signs of flattened grass to indicate that a train had passed through the area recently. "Nothin'," he commented, disappointed that he wouldn't have the opportunity to meet some new settlers or those headed for other parts of the new country on their way to bigger and better things. He'd hoped that they might want some furs to keep them warm for the coming winter and he'd be able to sell them some of the skins that were already cured in the shed.

"Is that the trail that goes to Fort Collins?" Andy asked as he looked to the east.

"Yep. That's the way we go when we head fer the big city," Cal said absentmindedly as he strained his eyes to the east again, hoping to glimpse a coming train.

Andy looked at the wide swept trail closely, making note of it. When hunting, he'd be sure to cover this area regularly. With any luck, maybe he'd spot someone heading in the direction of Fort Collins. He'd beg a ride from anyone heading in that direction, he promised himself, as his thoughts turned to the ranch and wondered where and what Slim and Jess were doing at the moment. He figured they were probably frantic with worry and searching for him. If only there were a way to contact them and let them know that he was okay, where he was and how much he missed them and wanted to go home. Andy looked around to see how they must get down from the drop off, but didn't see any places anywhere around him. He'd have to explore things more to find how the trappers got their wagon down to the trail below. He didn't dare ask Cal or the man might read his mind.

"Come on, boy," Cal said, breaking Andy's train of thought, as he started to lead the boy toward the wooded area. "The deer sometimes come up the ridge where it's not so steep, they have a trail near the edge of the woods, jest under enough cover so's ya can't see 'em real easy. They have a clearin' where they bed down in the woods. Sometimes ya kin catch 'em there, but ya gotta be real quiet when ya creep up on 'em. Wolf's pretty good at that," Cal said proudly, "must be the Injun in 'im. Meybe he kin teach ya his tricks. I reckon yer young enough ta meybe learn. Me, I never got the hang of it. Ya might git here in time ta watch 'em all runnin' off," Cal chuckled.

The trapper took Andy farther into the woods to show him where the deer tended to sleep. As Cal had told him, it was a clearing, some bushes, but no real trees filling the area. It was well sheltered by the overhead canopy with plenty of smooth, open ground for the animals to bed down, but there were no deer present as they entered the glade. If any deer had been there, they'd heard the pair coming and left in a hasty retreat. Cal walked around the area looking for tracks and droppings and pointed out some new scat to the boy, "See, they bin here an' not long ago. Looks like thar was at least a dozen of 'em."

Andy examined the ground and had to agree that there had been several deer there recently. It was a distance from the cabin and if he'd kill one there, he'd have to rig a travois to drag the animal back to the homestead. He made note that he'd have to remember to bring a good knife with him, not just for gutting the animal, but one that would work well at cutting down some good strong branches. Almost like reading his mind, Cal said, "We keep a travois at the edge of the woods. Gotta keep it away from here. If they smell blood, the deer won't bed here. Ya haveta hike a little ta git it, but it's better than havin' ta haul the heavy carcass back ta the house. Don't leave it here ta bleed out an' don't gut it here. It'll drive the herd off for a long time. Drag it ta the edge of the woods, over that way," Cal pointed toward the direction of the house, "before ya dress it out. Don't leave it in the open or the birds'll git at it. Git the travois an' drag it home. Me an' Wolf kin skin an' butcher it there. Now, boy, we need the skin of any deer ya kill. I know a head shot isn't always easy, are ya a good shot?" Cal asked as he eyed the youngster.

"Pretty good," Andy said as he lowered his eyes to look at the weapon in his hands.

"Good," Cal said, pleased at the boy's answer, "then be thinkin' when ya make yer shot. I know, I know, the meat's the most important part, but the skin kin mean a lot t' us, too. If ya noticed, we makes some of our clothes from deerskin. It's soft an' supple. If'n ya ruin the skins, it makes fer weak clothes, tears easy where there was bullet holes, ya know what I mean," Cal confided in the boy as if he were sharing a private joke and nudged Andy with his elbow.

"Yeah, I understand," Andy responded, with none of the fervor that Cal was showing as he discussed more killing of animals. It was like the man lived to kill any creature that came within his reach. Trying to change the subject from killing, Andy asked, "How about fishin'? So close to the river, do ya do any fishin'?"

"Not much, takes too much time an' scares the animals off from comin' t' the traps. Sounds like ya like t' fish, eh Andy?" Cal asked, his eyebrows raised, happy to finally find something that seemed to really interest the boy. "Tell ya what. I could go fer some fish on the table from time t' time. I reckon we could make a day here an' there, after the lines are cleared an' reset, we could let ya take some time t' do some fishin' I reckon. If'n yer any good at it an' make it worthwhile we kin make a regular day outta it fer ya. How does that sound?"

"I'd like that," Andy said with a sad smile as he remembered the fun times he'd had fishing with Jess and Slim or sneaking off with Jess to surprise Jonesy with something different to put on the table. Finding it hard to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat at the fond memories, Andy turned away pretending to be examining the area for more deer tracks.

"Now, come with me, boy," Cal said as he tugged at Andy's shirtsleeve to lead him through the woods along a deer trail. "They wander down through here. It's a little too dense ta kill any here an' haveta drag 'em out. I'd say ta let 'em be in here. Ya'd jest be killin' somethin' ya'd never git outta here."

Following the deer trail, the man and boy came out into a large grassy opening, surrounded on three sides by the forest and one side edged by the drop off into the valley that Cal had showed Andy earlier. Cal led Andy to the edge to look down into the valley, "Now be real careful here, it's a bad drop off. Even the deer won't try t' jump it." Looking at the valley below, Andy could see that the deer would be forced into the woods from the lush grazing area if frightened. "We got another travois o'er that," Cal said, pointing toward a rocky prominence close to the edge of the drop off. "If'n ya should shoot one here, ya kin take 'im inta the woods an' gut 'im an' leave 'im an' come git the travois. There's always rope by the travois, did I tell ya that?" Andy shook his head no, that Cal hadn't mentioned it before. "Well, there is, an' be sure when ya brings a deer back that ya bring the travois an' rope back t' the spots I'm showin' ya. If'n ya don't, well, its back breakin' work t' carry 'em back ta the house," Cal chuckled. "I reckon if'n ya fergit once, ya won't fergit it again," he said as he led the boy on and back into the woods along another deer trail, much wider than the last. "Ya kin drag the travois on this trail, it's wide enough an' comes out near the river where they go t' drink. If ya stay on the trail t' the river, it's easy t' git a deer outta that grazin' area. Don't try t' hunt on the other side of the woods, you'll only git lost. We won't come lookin' fer ya an' yer not any good t' any of us dead.

"I showed ya the best places ta look fer 'em, but any of these trails could be good, as long as ya know 'em. If'n ya git too thick in the woods ya'll never git 'em out, so don't go wastin' any bullets on somethin' ya have t' leave layin' out here. I think yer a smart boy an' you'll know when it's gonna be a waste. An' always remember, we need the skins, so's be careful with them shots, but then, I reckon, a ruined skin is better than no food on the table, right?" Cal said, with a wink to the boy. "Come on, let's git back t' the house. Are sure ya don't wanna learn how ta skin them critters, yet?" he asked, trying again to see if he could convince the boy into joining in with one more of the chores.

"No, sir," Andy replied. "I reckon huntin' an' fishin' along with the other chores should keep me plenty busy," wishing that he could just drop the gun and run back to leap off the ledge into the valley and run all the way to Fort Collins.

 **Chapter 45**

Slim called to Jonesy. He'd finished his breakfast and had plenty of time to think about what his foreman had told him regarding the disappearance of Andy.

Jonsey heard Slim and bit his bottom lip as he dried his hands on a towel; he'd been washing some of the morning dishes. Walking steadfastly with trepidation to the bedroom door, he put his hand on the knob and sighed deeply before turning it to enter the room, fully expecting to feel the wrath of his boss once again.

"Sure could use another cup of coffee, Jonesy, if you have it," Slim said as the older man entered the room.

"Why sure, of course, Slim," Jonesy said, pleased to do anything he could to keep the big man happy and not trying to crawl out of his cot.

"Bring the pot back with you and another cup. We need to do some more talking," Slim said as he handed the older man his empty plate and utensils.

"Anything you say, Slim," Jonesy replied as he took the plate and headed for the door, a little perturbed that the whole matter of questions and answers wasn't quite settled yet. He thought that he'd told Slim everything he knew or suspected, but if Slim wanted to rehash the whole ordeal once more, who was he to argue? Putting the plate next to the dishpan, Jonesy picked up his nearly empty coffee cup, opened the back door and tossed out the remaining cold brew. Picking up the coffee pot from the stove, a pot holder and taking his now emptied cup, Jonesy went back to Slim's bedroom, feeling like he was about to be interrogated all over again.

Upon entering the room, Jonesy said, "Here you go, Slim, freshly made, just finished brewing it." Pouring coffee into the two cups and handing one to the tall man sitting propped up in the bed. The older man then took hold of his own cup and sat down in the chair next to the bunk, thinking that he'd rather have set his hindquarters down on the hot stove than be scalded by Slim's wrath.

After a half hour of rehashing the whole experience that had gone on since the gypsies arrived and Slim returned to the ranch, Jonesy sat back in the chair waiting to hear what Slim wanted to talk about next.

"So, Jess is hurt? Why didn't you tell me about that before?" Slim began, carefully watching Jonesy squirming uneasily in the chair.

"I, I, thought I did," Jonesy stammered. "Well, you know that he said that he stepped on a nail. Well, it was starting to fester and the doc took a look at it and gave him some salts to soak his foot in and some drawing salve. And you know that boy, he just don't listen. I couldn't stop him when he took off looking for Andy. He didn't take his medicinal stuff, so I sent Thomas after him with some supplies and his soaking stuff. I'm sure he's fine, Slim, and they'll be back real soon with Andy. I sure didn't want to worry you none about any of this," Jonesy continued, trying to fast talk himself out of any disapproval that might be coming to Slim's mind.

"I schure hope so," Slim agreed as he maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position then took a sip from his cup. "I'm sorry, Jonesy. I reckon you did mention it, but my mind is still spinning from the laudanum. I reckon I forgot. Andy's all I have on my mind," the tortured rancher replied. After a short pause of sipping at his coffee cup, he asked, "Who's taking care of the stages?"

"That gypsy man said that they'd take care of it this morning, but if things dried out some, they want to get back to working on their wagon. He asked if there was anyone who could help, so I sent him out to the Bradley place to see if any of the boys could come and help, just like you and Jess figure, that they could help here when we need it and that they can always use the extra money," again the older man tried to keep talking to not allow the blonde rancher to ask any more uncomfortable questions.

"So, the stages are covered until Jess gets back." Slim stated, rather than asked when Jonesy stopped long enough to take a breath.

"Unless we find out something else," Jonesy mumbled. "I hope the Bradley boys stop by to let me know that they'll be here for sure and I can give them the schedule. As far as I know, there's no specials coming through for the next week or so, so it should be a pretty easy job for them, I reckon."

"I reckon," Slim said evenly. "How about a little more coffee?"

Glad to see that his boss had calmed down considerably since their previous conversation, Jonesy was very happy to pour them each another cup of the strong beverage.

"Is Dragos out in the barn right now?" the blonde rancher asked.

"Not sure. I reckon some of them are out there, if Dragos is back from the Bradley's or not, I can't say. Maybe, why?"

"I want you to ask him to get the small buckboard ready. I'm going out to look for Jess and Andy."

Jonesy choked and sputtered, "Slim! You can't do that," the excited man said, almost spilling his cup of coffee over the man in the bed as he stood up quickly from the chair. "Now Slim, you have to listen to reason. Jess is already out there and hurt. If you go out there, too, why, what happens if one of you can't get back, and Jess can't find you and you can't find Jess and I mean, oh heck, I don't know what I mean," Jonesy stammered, then said, "Slim, you just can't go! You're really hurt. You already had to have that leg set twice. With all the rain we had the last day, why it's not going to be an easy drive. I wouldn't even want to take a wagon out in the muck and mud out there right now. Now, just settle down. Jess is doing fine…"

Jonesy never got to finish his chatter before he was interrupted by his agitated boss, "You said it yourself, Jess is out there, he's hurt, has an infection, without his medications, and probably running a fever. If Thomas hasn't found him, then what? They could both be out there wandering around in circles, Thomas looking for Jess, Jess half out of his head and no one looking for Andy. I can't lie here in this bed and do nothing."

"You are doing something, Slim. You're getting better. You have a lot of healing to do. No, I'm sorry. You may be the boss, but I refuse to go out there to have anyone hitch up that buckboard. In fact, I'm going out to the barn right now to tell everyone to not do it by any means. They'll listen to me, Slim. They know you're hurt real bad, so just get that silly notion out of your head. I'm giving the orders around here now," Jonesy said smugly, "and you're going to stay in that bed. I'm the one going to do all the worrying about this situation for now. If I have to rope and hogtie you to this bed, I will, and I'm sure I can get those gypsy fellas to help me!" the older man commanded with a strongly determined attitude. "Now, if you want to fire me, that's fine with me, but only after you're all healed up and can take care of the place yourself. I made a promise to your pa that I'd look after you boys and I'm not quitting now. I've really made a mess out of watching out for Andy but I'm not going to let something happen to you, too."

Slim started to retort angrily but Jonesy cut him off, shoving him back into the pillows. "I ain't done yet. If I knew that I could trust that you'd take proper care of yourself, I'd go out looking for Andy myself. I'm as worried as you are about that boy. But right now, we have to put our trust in Jess and Thomas. I'm sure they'll find him and bring him back here safe and sound. Thomas lived in the mountains for most of his life. I have confidence that he can find Jess just fine. I sent some of my fever medicine with him, too. Once he finds Jess, Thomas'll fix him right up and the two of them will find Andy. So, just sit back and wait, just like me," Jonesy finished his rant after looking everywhere in the room except at Slim, who had now found the whole fulminate quite amusing and was smiling broadly at his surrogate uncle, his hands clasped behind his head as he enjoyed the diatribe.

"What are you grinning at," the simmering Jonesy asked as he looked down his nose at his employer.

"You," Slim chuckled, unable to contain himself, "I reckon you have me over a barrel, Jonesy, and I just might think about having to fire you for disobeying my direct orders." Reaching out to the older man with one hand Slim said seriously, "Jonesy, I know how much you care about Andy and me and I know about the promise you made Pa. You know I appreciate you and everything you do for us and that I'd never do anything to hurt you. I can see that you'd never do anything to hurt me or see me get hurt. I reckon that you're right. I could get myself into a lot of trouble if I followed my scatter-brained idea. I reckon I thought that I could do it since Jess is following those gypsy wagons and they won't be going anywhere where a wagon can't go. But you're right, on my own, if the wagon got stuck in the mud, there wouldn't be much of anything I could do. Thanks for making me realize that. You're not fired, Jonesy, that is, unless you don't make me some chicken and biscuits for supper tonight," the blonde man said with a forgiving smile that lit up his pale blue eyes.

"Well," Jonesy said indignantly as he turned to go to the bedroom door, "I'm glad you finally came to your senses. I have to go out now and kill me one of those old hens for supper," he added as he left the room, leaving Slim lying against the pillows smiling to himself over the last chapter the two had shared, each of them having had a chance to vent a lot of their own personal frustration and share their inner most feelings.

Jonesy went immediately to the chicken coop, closing the door behind him in search of an older hen that may have been past her prime laying age. The only hens in the coop at the present time were sitting in nests, trying to do their daily duty, but on one of the roosts, Jonesy spotted a young, plump rooster that could easily be spared. Sneaking up on the bird, Jonesy plucked him from the roost as he squawked loudly in protest. There would be chicken and biscuits on the table for supper tonight, just like the boss had ordered.

 **Chapter 46**

Thomas fashioned Jess a boot, of sorts, from one of their sleeping blankets. It was tightly bound with some twine that he found in one of the saddlebags, covering Jess' injured foot and leg to his knee. The mountaineer was pleased with the application since he was able to put a good dollop of salve, as he put it, in a pocket he'd made, against Jess' wound. It gave him gratification to know that Jess' wound was being constantly bathed in the healing ointment as they rode.

As Thomas cleared the camp, Jess picked up his ruined boot and hobbled toward his saddlebags, mumbling to Thomas as he passed him by, "Maybe the town cobbler can fix it." As he carefully put the remaining leather inside the pouch and buckled the strap, he added, "Might still be good for workin' but it's sure ruined for dancin'," he curtly remarked, making it obvious he wasn't pleased with the butcher job that Thomas had done on his nearly new boot.

"An' iffin ya don't take care of that foot right proper, ya won't be doin' no dancin' with er without that boot," Thomas warned gruffly, getting tired of the younger man's attitude.

Jess took a few more swallows of Jonesy's elixir and said that he was feeling better but when Thomas felt his forehead, the older man recognized that the fever hadn't quite broken. He'd have to keep an eye on the younger man in case he weakened or got dizzy during the ride.

Helping the protesting cowboy on his horse, they set out to continue on their journey. Riding close beside Jess, Thomas was ready to reach out to help right the weakened cowboy and keep him astride his horse with a push or tug on his jacket sleeve, whichever might be necessary.

As they rode, Jess dozed in the saddle, amazing Thomas that he didn't fall off the horse during the short periods of napping. When Jess was awake, he was constantly searching the horizon for any sign of the gypsies.

"Look's like we're catchin' up," Jess finally commented at one point along their expedition.

"Why's that?" Thomas inquired.

"The sheep droppings, they ain't washed away. Look, that's fresh today," Jess said pointing at some fresh scat. "We should catch up with 'em before dark," Jess remarked as he scanned the horizon hoping for a glimpse of wagons or the flock of sheep on the move.

"I hope so," Thomas declared, with a smile, looking off in the same direction that Jess was straining to see something that wasn't there.

After another hour or so of following the wide swept trail, the two riders crested a hill. Below them they saw the caravan ahead, followed by the carpet of white wool on the hoof, out-riders and sheep dogs keeping the flock in a regimented drive. Not a single stray could be seen.

"Thar she be," Thomas excitedly exclaimed, but not before Jess spurred Traveler down the embankment heading straight toward the moving wagons. Thomas urged his sorrel horse to follow him as he parted the flock and rode straight for the cavalcade.

Riding past the column of vardos, Jess rode to the head wagon sensing that the man in charge would be leading the caravan. Pulling back on the reins of his team, the surprised gypsy man, smiled to Jess, curiosity was more than evident in his expression as he said, "Hello, I think I remember seeing you at our camp on the Sherman ranch," the dark-eyed man managed to utter.

"Yeah, my name is Jess Harper. I work for Slim Sherman. Could you stop the band here for a few minutes? I need to talk to you and your people," Jess said as he held tight on the reins of Traveler, who was unable to stand still after thoroughly enjoying the chance to let go of some of his energy in the spurt to catch up with the wagons.

"My name is Stefan, Dragos left me in charge until he returns," the gypsy man said as he tied off his horses and climbed down from the wagon and waved to the other vardo drivers.

As the band of people gathered around at Stefan's request, Jess asked if anyone had seen Andy or knew anything about him accompanying them on the trail. As the people talked amongst themselves, they all agreed that they hadn't seen the boy and had no idea of where he might be. Frustration washed over Jess as he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair before replacing the hat on his head. "Would you mind if I searched the wagons?" he asked. 'Maybe he's hiding out n' someone doesn't know it?" Jess said, trying not to sound like he could be accusing anyone of being dishonest about Andy's whereabouts.

Stefan looked a little flustered, having never been accused of kidnapping or anything resembling it. "I am sure we would know if he was here. He would have to eat and come to the campfire to do so," the gypsy man said as he looked at several people in his party hoping that someone would come to his rescue.

An elderly woman in a bright red garb stepped forward, "You think we took your boy," she reproached.

"No, I didn't say that," Jess swiftly corrected her. "Our foreman thinks that Andy was, well, smitten with Crina and mighta followed after her," Jess defended himself. "I'm only trying to find him. I'm not accusing anyone of anything, only looking for the boy to take him home. Could he be hiding here?" Jess implored as he searched the faces gathered around him.

"If Andy was following Crina, then he is not here with us. Crina went with Katia and Testa to meet with Katia's family. Dragos is looking for a husband for Crina and was hoping that she might meet someone at Katia's people's camp," Stefan explained, stepping back and away from Jess, as he turned to face him, obviously a little frightened of the weatherworn cowboy. "They turned east where the river splits."

Jess' eyes narrowed as he looked at Thomas, sickened by the thought that they'd wasted so much time following the wrong trail. Had he gone all the way to the river rather than looking for shelter, he felt that maybe he would have seen that some of the wagons had gone in a different direction. If he'd known, he could have sent Thomas in one direction while he followed the trail in the other. The weary cowboy reflected on how much time he'd lost following the wrong wagons. And what if the other wagons turned away from the river and the trail was now washed away? More worry flooded his mind as he wondered, what if they do find the other wagons and Andy isn't there? How many days and wrong turns would they have to make before they could even be sure if Andy was with the gypsies. So many thoughts raced through Jess' fevered head as he speculated if they'd ever find the missing boy.

The young gypsy woman who Jess had watched as she danced suggestively in the camp at the ranch stepped forward. "I am Esmeralda," she said as she pointed toward Jess' blanketed leg, "and you are injured?"

"Yeah, kinda poked a hole in my foot a while back. Got medicine for it," Jess responded as he glanced toward Thomas, again.

"I am the medicine woman here. Let me look. I might be able to help you," she said, pulling on his sleeve to follow her to a nearby wagon. Jess tried to pull away but gave in, thinking what could it hurt; besides, he'd be able to ask more questions while she looked at his foot.

Thomas followed after them, "I got some salve, an' soakin' salts that the doc gave 'im. We're almost out. I reckon ya might have somethin' that could work ta git us back home."

Pushing Jess back to sit on the step up of the vardo, Esmeralda started to work at the strings that bound the blanket to Jess' leg. "Much obliged," Jess said, anxious to see what color his foot was after the long saturation in the medicinal ointment. "Thomas, there," Jess nodded his head in the direction of the big mountain man who was approaching them, "he hadda cut off my boot, my foot n' leg was swellin'. He made this," Jess searched for a description of the fabricated footwear as he pointed to the wrappings, "to keep my foot clean n' soak it in the salve the doctor gave me."

Nodding her head as she removed the blanket-boot, Esmeralda said, "Good color. The salve must be working very well. I'm glad to see no black or green colors. Do you have much salve left?"

"No ma'am," Thomas said, lowering his head, "used it almost all up. Ya wouldn't have anythin' like it, would ya?

Smiling at the older man, she said, "I do not know what was in your doctors balm, but we have many herbs to make a poultice for Mr. Harper to wear in your travels. I will also make a much better," she smiled up at Jess as she put his foot to rest on the now discarded blanket, "boot. I will make one from sheepskin. It will be much better and stronger for you. I will ask Stefan to make camp here. You will eat with us. I will make the balm and Sabanya will help me sew you a healing boot." The gypsy woman rose from before Jess and left to talk to several of the men gathered near another vardo.

"Might not be so bad, Jess," Thomas said as he walked to where Jess remained sitting on the step and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Glad ta hear that the lady thinks that yer foot is still okay, even if ya are more stubborn than a porkypine quill in a hound's nose," he chuckled.

"Thomas, do ya think they're tellin' me the truth about not seeing Andy?" Jess asked, despondently looking up at the older man.

"Yeah, I think they are," Thomas said, walking away from Jess to look out at the herd of sheep as they spread out in the field around the wagons.

"Look, if we stay for a little while, could ya go look around the camp for me? I'm afraid I ain't gonna be doin' much walkin'."

"Sure, Jess. I was gonna do that, anyhow. It's gonna be kinda hard ta check the wagons with them doors on 'em an' all. But from what I kin see, thar ain't much room in 'em ta hide out. If Andy's here, someone would know about it. You met these folks before, do ya think they'd take Andy against his will?"

"Nah, I think they're pretty honest folks. Been real obligin' in helpin' us while we were tryin' to help them. But if Andy followed after 'em, that would be different. Like Stefan said, if he followed after Crina n' they split off back east, maybe Andy's with them. If he was walkin' we woulda found 'im, I'm sure. He didn't take a horse from the ranch. I got a bad feelin' that maybe that girl did talk him into goin' with her like Jonesy said."

"Do ya think the boy'd have a mind ta runnin' away?"

"Yeah, I do. He talked about runnin' off with me when I first came to the ranch," Jess responded, shaking his head at the memory as a painful look swept his face.

"With you?" Thomas asked, surprised. "An' was ya gonna take 'im with ya?"

"Nah, wouldn't do anything like that. I know how he felt though. Slim was pretty rough on him sometimes. I guess the kid had enough n' thought I was his way out."

"Rough on the boy? He didn't beat 'im er anythin' like that?"

"Nah, just tryin' to do the best he can bein' like a father, I reckon. It's been pretty hard on Slim takin' care of the ranch n' raisin' Andy up without a ma or pa. Oh, Jonesy helps out a lot, but Andy, well, I guess he's a little like me. Kinda fiddle-footed. Slim wants what's best for him, that's for sure, but he comes on a little too strong sometimes to Andy's point of view. I can understand it. I reckon Andy resents his big brother telllin' him what to do, when Slim's only tryin' to teach him to be responsible n' all. Jonesy said that Andy was a little sweet on that gypsy girl. Maybe Andy decided this was his chance to get away from the ranch. I know he wanted to travel n' I think that's why he took to me so fast. I had plenty of stories about my travelin', maybe made it sound like somethin' he wanted to do," Jess said regretfully. "Probably my fault that he ran off," he said looking the older man in the eye, seeking reassurance that it wasn't really his transgression.

Thomas studied the tormented Texan for a long moment before responding, "If he had it in his mind before, I reckon yer not ta fault. M'be Jonesy's right. The girl talked 'im inta leavin'. I reckon we'll know when we catch up with 'im, an' we will, Jess. I feel it in m' achy ole bones," Thomas said with an almost toothless grin as he put a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"I think your right. I don't think he's here. As soon as I get that boot on, we'll head back east. In the meantime, you go look around camp for anything that looks like Andy could be here."

"But Jess, ya gotta remember I ain't never seen Andy. I could walk right up to 'im an' not know who he was," the mountain man reminded Jess.

Jess put his hands to his head at the realization of how easily Andy could blend in with the band to anyone who didn't know that he didn't belong. Looking back up at the big man, he said, "Yeah, your right. I didn't think of that. I reckon I'm still not thinkin' real clear." Looking back toward the wagons down the line, Jess continued, "He's not fair-haired like Slim. If he's dressed like the rest of 'em, you'd never pick 'im out. Besides, if he knows I'm here, I'm sure he'll be hidin' out."

Esmeralda rejoined the two men, "Stefan said we can make camp here. It is early but the grazing is good here. You will join us for food and drink. I will go now to make the balm for your foot. Sabanya is getting a skin and will be here in a few moments. She will measure you for your boot. She will put a sole on it so you will be able to walk comfortably on it. As like when you came here, you must keep the balm on the wound at all times. Only take the boot off to put more on your foot. Your foot and the boot will absorb some of it, so you must put more on it at least once a day. Keep it on at all times, even when you sleep. And try not to get it wet. Do you understand?"

Jess nodded his understanding. "Esmeralda, do you know anything about Andy?" He had to ask just one more time.

"He was the young boy who came to our camp that night, am I right?" she asked as she knelt down to wipe the old salve off Jess' foot.

"Yes, that's him," Jess said, watching the gypsy woman for any indication of being deceptive.

"I remember him. I did see him walking with Crina in the field sometimes as she gathered herbs and flowers. I think she liked him more than just a little," Esmeralda said with a smile as she looked up at Jess from under her thick, dark, sheltering eyelashes. "If you wonder if he is here, he is not. I am sure it will surprise you to find out that the tales told about gypsies stealing children is just that, a tale. If Andy asked to come with us," she paused for a moment, then continued, "we probably would not turn him away, but we would not hide him. Family is very important to us and we would understand that you would want him back. He is young, but here he would be a man. If you did not come looking for him, he would be welcome to join our band, our family. Mr. Harper, he is not here. If he followed Crina, then he went with them along the river to the east. I feel very sorry for you to have come this far and not find him. Perhaps you will have luck finding him with Testa, Katia, and Crina. I do not know where Katia's family is camping, maybe Stefan knows. I will ask him for you. For now, ah, here is Sabanya now. This water is for your foot to soak for now," Esmeralda said as she stood up at the approach of the youthful gypsy woman.

Putting the bucket of hot water on the ground in front of Jess, Sabanya nodded to him. "If you could find out more for us about where the other wagons might be going, Esmeralda, I'd be much obliged," Jess said as he allowed Sabanya to help him place his foot in the heated water.

"I'll go with 'er, Jess," Thomas said. "Might as well git them directions m'self, too."

Esmeralda nodded and Thomas followed her as she walked to join some men building a cook fire near some of the wagons.

 **Chapter 47**

Andy finished chopping wood for the morning and was carrying a stack of logs around to the front door of the little cabin when he overheard Cal and Running Wolf talking in the skinning shed. Hearing his name, the boy stopped to eavesdrop on what they were saying, trying not to gag on the pungent odor of the fresh blood that permeated the air.

"But I don't think he wants to stay here," the Indian boy said to his father.

"I don't care. If no one comes lookin' fer him, we kin keep 'im. He's a good worker an' with him doin' most of the chores, it leaves us more time t' hunt an' trap fer more skins. We kin lock 'im in the shed when we take the skins t' Fort Collins. Nobody hasta know he's here. He'll git use t' it sooner er later, you'll see," the old trapper said confidently as he wiped the congealed blood off the skinning knife on his leather apron.

The blood drained from his face as panic raced through every stitch of Andy's being. He wanted to go home, not stay here with these two trappers who killed the animals that he loved with such fervor. Backing away, Andy stumbled and the wood he was carrying fell to the ground with a loud thud, catching the trappers' attention.

Unable to run and hide, Andy bent to pick up the wood and smiled as the pair stood in the shed door looking out at him. "Ssssorry," Andy stammered as he picked up the logs, "I was just takin' these to the house an' tripped on somethin'. Probably my own feet." Standing up, Andy turned toward the house and carried his bundle inside, pretending that nothing was wrong.

Piling the wood next to the cook stove, Andy then sat on the stool next to the fireplace to think. Wide-eyed and with his leg jiggling nervously, he put the nail of his pointing finger to his teeth.

Cal and Running Wolf came through the door, each carrying an arm full of the firewood that Andy had split and deposited on the floor next to the fireplace. Andy looked up sheepishly at Cal as the red haired man crossed in front of him and stopped to glance down at him. "What's the matter boy? Ya don't look so good," the trapper asked as he suspiciously eyed the boy.

"I, I," Andy stumbled over his words as he tried to think up a reason for his nervousness. "I think I turned my ankle when I tripped. I'm kinda restin' it."

"Maybe I should take a look,' Cal remarked, not quite convinced by Andy's story.

"Naw, I've done it before an' I know I can walk it off. Just needed to sit for a minute. I think I'll go down to the clearin' an' see if I can get us some venison for supper. Can I use the rifle?" Andy asked eagerly as he stood up from the stool and pretended to limp a little toward the corner of the room where the rifle stood leaning against the wall. "See, it's better already," he said, turning to smile at the trapper as he reached for the long gun.

"Are ya done with the rest of yer chores?" Cal asked with a sideways glance.

"Sure," Andy replied, not exactly knowing what Cal meant yet by the rest of his chores, but he needed to get away alone so he could think about what he'd overheard.

"I reckon we won't need the rifle fer a bit, plenty of skins needin' treatin'. Go ahead, an' don't ya go gittin' lost out there, ya hear?"

"Oh, no, sir," Andy said, shaking his head to assure the man. "I don't plan on goin' any farther than that clearin' ya showed me yesterday."

"It's mighty close t' the noon meal, meybe ya should wait till after we have some grub," Cal said as he turned to glance at Running Wolf who was busy piling the logs they'd dumped on the floor. "I'm gittin' hungry, how about you, Wolf?" he asked.

"Yeah, I reckon I could eat somethin' real soon. Them rabbits we just skinned, I kin quarter 'em up fer us ta fry up if ya want," the Indian boy said as he ambled toward the door.

"Sounds good t' me," Cal replied. "You go do that, I'll go get the fixin's ready. Andy, you kin set the table, but first go fetch us some fresh milk. The bucket's out in the butter house. Bring me some lard in before ya go out t' the cow."

Andy headed for the door, following the Indian boy out and almost forgetting to limp. Once away from the house and out of sight of Running Wolf, Andy relaxed a little. He went inside the small shed that served as the butter house and found a can of lard and the milk bucket. As requested, he took the lard to the cabin and left it on the table for Cal, who was busily mixing up some batter to dip the rabbit pieces in before frying them.

Retrieving the bucket that he'd left by the door, Andy headed for the lean-to.

Finally away from the trappers, Andy felt a small sense of freedom. Yes, he was grateful for them finding him and taking him in, but was totally unsettled by what he'd overheard being said in the shed. They had to have been talking about him, but it almost sounded like they were talking about finding a dog or some such thing. Keeping him? Locking him up in the shed when they went to town? Could they really have been talking about him, Andy pondered, yet knowing full well that they had. He just didn't want to believe it.

As he thought more and more about it, Andy realized that he was only rationalizing for them and that they were really planning on keeping him as a prisoner. Cal had mentioned about how well he did the chores. No, they were talking about him, not some dog that they might have found out on the trap line. Besides, had there been a dog, Andy was sure that he would have seen him by now.

Andy wandered near the drop off ledge that he'd visited with Cal previously. Looking down, he was hoping he'd see a passing wagon train below, someone he could call out to for help, but he saw nothing except the high, waving grass in the wind swept valley.

Walking along the rim, he recalled Cal showing him where there was a less steep pathway that the deer used to climb up the embankment to the sheltering woods. Shortly, he came to the worn path and examined it closely. It was very steep, but Andy felt that if he were careful, he could climb down and follow the pathway leading toward Fort Collins. If only he could estimate how far away it was. He'd have to ask how long it took the trappers to drive their wagon to town, maybe it would give him an idea how far it was and how long it would take him to find his way to Fort Collins. He was sure it would be a very long journey and wasn't sure if Cal would come looking for him or not. Cal had previously said that if Andy got lost in the woods that he wouldn't come looking for him. Andy wondered how true it might be.

With the rifle under his arm, Andy wandered deeper into the woods toward the clearing and found a place to sit and wait, hoping that the local deer herd might pass by. But then, if he brought venison home today, Cal might not let him go hunting again very soon. If he were to try and make his getaway, he'd want to have the excuse of going hunting again to be alone without any suspicion of his being gone for any length of time. Andy resolved that even if the herd came within his range, he wouldn't be bringing home any venison today. He'd rather be armed when he started to make his way to Fort Collins and, hopefully, get a good head start before the trappers realized he was gone and not coming back. Perhaps, if he were really lucky, night would fall and give him even more time to put miles between himself and the trapper's cabin.

Pondering how long he could be gone before anyone came looking for him, Andy decided to stay in the glade, pretending to wait for the herd to appear if Cal did come searching for him. If the herd showed up, he'd scare them off. He was determined that he would not be bringing home any venison, at least not today.

After sitting for about an hour, Andy heard the rustle of some brush and carefully looked in the direction of the noise to see several does with this season's fawns cautiously picking their way into the clearing. Before deciding to chase them away, the youthful hunter admired their graceful beauty and smiled in awe as he watched the fawns joyfully jump and play while their mothers grazed on the sparse grass growing in the canopied dell.

After observing the animals for several minutes, the heads of the grazing deer rose suddenly, their ears pricked forward and they all looked toward the northwest. Andy could hear the breaking of twigs and branches as a heavy stride came staunchly in their direction. In a flash, deer tails went up and the does took off into the deep woods to the east followed swiftly by their progeny.

Andy was sure it had to be Cal looking for him. He gathered up the rifle and stood looking in the direction of the ponderous footfall, nervously fingering the lowered rifle in his hands.

Between the trees, Andy finally caught sight of movement. The form was far bigger and darker than what he'd expected. Before he had a clear look at the invader, Andy recognized that he wasn't facing the trapper. The growl that boomed ahead of the intruder left no doubt in the boys mind, he'd heard the sound of an angry bear before, and this one was barreling right toward him. Raising the rifle, Andy fired as the bear quickly diminished the distance between them.


End file.
